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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27653615">Ain't It A Pretty Night</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/HeyGoodLookin/pseuds/HeyGoodLookin'>HeyGoodLookin</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Newsies (1992), Newsies - All Media Types, Newsies!: the Musical - Fierstein/Menken</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Gen</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-11-21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-03-25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 20:55:49</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>62,283</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27653615</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/HeyGoodLookin/pseuds/HeyGoodLookin</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>New York was no place for a girl on her own. Hannah learned that the hard way. Until she met Racetrack and his friends, who helped her find her way and herself in the process. </p><p> </p><p>Or, alternatively, Racetrack meets a stubborn, strong, and kind girl.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Racetrack Higgins/Original Female Character(s), Sarah Jacobs/Jack Kelly</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>10</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Sweetheart</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Hello it's just me- diving headfirst into a fandom I have never written for so yay, way to go me. <br/>Not sure why I wrote this and if I'll even continue, 'cause I'm really not sure if it's any good. <br/>Anyway, let me know what y'all think. If I should continue or what.<br/>Thanks so much for reading!!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Racetack Higgens was anything but stupid, but trouble sure knew how to follow him. He wasn’t like Skittery— all gloom and pessimism— he always saw the bright side to everything. And in hindsight maybe that was his edge. Jack had always told him that every street kid needed an edge to make it. So trouble seemed to follow Race, but he was somehow always able to pick himself up again. He could fix any problem. He was street smart and savvy, a gambler through and through. But he was loyal and a damn good fighter. Not as great as Spot, mind you, but nobody was as good as Spot in a fight. Racetrack was a thrill seeker, that fact was no secret, since he spent most his free time either at the races placing bets or at a card table playing poker.</p><p>Racetrack had done selling for the day, a good headline putting a spring in his step as he made his way to Sheepshead in Brooklyn. The first time he’d gone to Sheepshead, he’d turned a few heads. Truth be told, an Italian boy (and boy did he look it) traipsing around the Irish quarter was a bit unorthodox, but Race was likeable. Always quick to flash a grin and tell a joke. He was clever and easy to like: two things that made his presence acceptable.Sheepshead was like a second home to him. He knew most of the jockeys, helped in the stables, and had gotten into plenty of fights over bets he’d both won and lost. That Saturday Racetrack felt lucky. He had a hot tip on Quick Silver and an extra five cents from selling a few more papers that morning. Racetrack smiled as he approached the entrance, so excited to watch and place his bet, that he didn’t notice a foot stretched out across his path.</p><p>“Jesus!” He stumbled and caught himself. He was about to tell whoever’s foot he’d tripped over to watch it when he looked down.</p><p>A girl, not more than a year or so younger than him, stared up at him as she hugged her legs against her chest. “I’m so sorry,” she mumbled wide-eyed.</p><p>“S’okay,” Race turned to face her. “Don’t worry ‘bout it.”</p><p>The girl slumped against the wall and put her head onto her knees. She looked warn, cold, and pale. But her dress — Racetrack noticed right away— didn’t match her current state. She’d clearly been on the streets for a while, but her dress didn’t look like the ones the girls from orphanages wore. It wasn’t finery either. It just wasn’t the kind of a dress a girl from the street of New York would wear. She had a blue ribbon in her hair.</p><p>“You’s alright?” Race came down to her level and crouched onto his knees. “You’s got a place to stay for tonight?”</p><p>She pressed herself against the wall in the vain hope that it would swallow her whole.</p><p>“I’ll be fine,” she said, her voice dry with fatigue and dehydration. It was firm none-the-less.</p><p>“You’s ain’t lookin’ too fine,” said Race delicately.</p><p>“I just had a moment. I’ll be—“</p><p>“Fine,” Race finished. “Yeah, so you’s keep sayin’.”</p><p>“If you would have let me finish,” the girl raised her head slightly. Shocking blues looked up at him and Racetrack shifted his weight nervously. “I was going to say I’ll be leaving now.”</p><p>“You’s ain’t in no shape to be goin’ anywhere in Brooklyn. Besides, it’ll be dark soon.”</p><p>“And?” The girl tried to get up by using the wall for support.</p><p>Race saw her legs shake, even with her skirts covering the most of them, and put his arm out so she could support herself on him. She was thin (too thin, Race noticed by the way her dress wasn’t fitting her anymore) and too cold.</p><p>“And you’s a goil alone in Brooklyn. Brooklyn ain’t no place for a goil like you’s, sweetheart. Especially not after hours.”</p><p>“I’ve managed before.”</p><p>“That don’t make it right,” said Race. “Look, ya don’t need to say yes or no until you’s see the place, but at least let me take ya to where I’s stay okay?”</p><p>The girl stared up at Racetrack. She hadn’t eaten in days, she had almost frozen to death the night before, and she was running out of options. “I don’t have any money.’</p><p>“No problem,” said Race. “Klopmann’s a good guy. I’ll talk to ‘em and tell ‘em you need a place for the night.”</p><p>“He wouldn’t mind?”</p><p>“A nice goil like you’s?” Race grinned. “Ya gotta be kidden’ me.”</p><p>“I could be a criminal,” the girl took in a sharp breath as Race helped her to her feet.</p><p>“With a lace trim collar. Seems ‘bout right. You’s got a name, sweetheart?”</p><p>The girl tried not to hold onto Race as they walked. “Hannah.”</p><p>“Easy there,” Race caught her as she lost her footing. “I’m Racetrack.”</p><p>“That’s your <em>name?”</em></p><p>“Round here it is,” said Race. “I’m from Manhattan. That where we’s goin’.”</p><p>“But you wanted to go to the races.”</p><p>“I go all the time,” Race examined Hannah’s pale face. “Plus you’s need ta lie down.”</p><p>“I’m fine.”</p><p>“You’s keep sayin’ that, but I’s jus’ don’ believe ya.”</p><p>They walked, Hannahbegrudgingly allowing Race to support her more fully.</p><p>“What’s so dangerous about Brooklyn?” She asked. She knew that even her question gave her away as being pathetically naive. She quickly collected herself. “Who says I can’t take care of myself?”</p><p>Racetrack snickered at her determination. She was stubborn, he’d give her that. “Plenty of things, sweetheart. An’ as much as I don’t doubt you’s can look out for ya self—“ he pulled her to his side when he noticed a man eye her up and down. “There’s lookin’ out for ya self an’ then there’s not knowin’ no better. I’m sure you’s smart, probably even went to school I bet, but you’s don’t know the foist thing about New York…especially this part of Brooklyn.”</p><p>Hannah swallowed hard, feeling Racetrack’s arm tighten around her shoulders. “I can walk without your rigorous assistance.”</p><p>“I’s doin’ it for ya own good. So they’s that passin’ by think you’s with me.”</p><p>“What?”</p><p>Race cast a sharp glance at a boy passing by. The sun was starting to set.</p><p>“We’s betta hurry up. Can you’s walk alright still?”</p><p>“Yes,” Hannah answered firmly.</p><p>“We’s need ta get ya to Manhattan before dark.”</p><p>“I can manage.”</p><p>Racetrack gave her shoulder a reassuring squeeze. “You’s a strong one, sweetheart.”</p><p>“My name is Hannah.”</p><p>“Nobody goes by there real names ‘round here,” said Race. He weaved them through the crowds of people, pulling her against himself when the wrong pair of eyes looked her way. “Everybody’s got their sad story ‘round here. Cowboy, he’s our leader, he made sure we all have nicknames. Made sure our real names got forgotten. That way nobody can trace us. If nobody knows where ya came from, ain’t nobody gonna come following ya.”</p><p>Hannah nodded her head weakly. “Hence Racetrack.”</p><p>“Somethin’ like that.”</p><p>“I’m sorry you missed your race,” said Hannah.</p><p>“Think nothin’ of it, Sweetheart,” said Race. He flashed her a small grin.</p><p>“I suppose that’s your name for me, then?”</p><p>“What… sweetheart?” Race chuckled. “If ya want it to be.”</p><p>Hannah shrugged. “You seem to like it well enough.”</p><p>“It suits ya.”</p><p>“Oh,” Hannah flushed.</p><p>They walked in relative silence, Racetrack watching for unsavoury characters and looking down at Hannah every once in a while when he felt her step falter. She was determined, but she was fading fast. He’d promised her a place to stay, but it had been gamble. And though he craved the high of a good bet, he didn’t like the fact that he had taken a gamble on Hannah’s safety. He knew the lodging house was safe. It had been safe for him for eight years. The thing he hadn’t considered was the fact that Hannah was a girl. He didn’t know if Klopmann would take too kindly to him bringing a girl to the lodging house. He was prepared to beg, though, because Hannah really didn’t have many options. It took one last look at her calico dress for his spitfire determination to kick in. He’d get her in the lodging house, at least for one night, come hell or high water.</p><p>“This is it,” He stopped in front of the familiar building. “It ain’t much, but it’s home.”</p><p>“You live here?” Hannah followed Race inside cautiously.</p><p>“Me an’ about twenty other fellas.”</p><p>“<em>Twenty?”</em></p><p>“It’s for newsies, Sweetheart. Manhattan newsies lodging house,” said Racetrack. Thankfully the boys were all settled upstairs. Nobody went out much on a weekday.</p><p>“So you—“</p><p>“Sell newspapers,” Race finished. “Have since I’s seven.”</p><p>Hannah nodded at this. She had so many questions, but it was taking most of her energy to stay standing. She felt Race guide her over to a desk.</p><p>“Racetrack I—“ Hannah closed her eyes for a moment to collect herself. “I don’t want to be an imposition.”</p><p>“You’s ain’t no such thing,” said Race. He rang a bell and looked around the corner until a elderly man appeared.</p><p>“What you got there, Race?” The man looked down at the pair with a raised eyebrow.</p><p>“This here’s Sweetheart,” Race smiled down at Hannah. “She needs a place to stay.”</p><p>“You know I can’t take girls, Race.”</p><p>“I’s know Klopmann, I’s just thought, what with her havin’ no place to go an—“</p><p>“No!” Hannah looked up quickly. “I won’t have you bending rules for—“</p><p>“You’s not going back out there,” Race met her fierce gaze.</p><p>Kloppman muttered something under this breath and checked over a page in a large brown book. “She can’t sell.”</p><p>“I’s know that,” said Race.</p><p>“I can cook,” Hannah said quietly.</p><p>“Can you clean?” Kloppman asked, avoiding Racetrack’s increasing grin.</p><p>“Yes sir,” said Hannah. “And mend and sow and bake.”</p><p>“I won’t be able to pay you much, but it’ll be enough to tide you over.”</p><p>“So she can stay?” Racetrack’s eyes widened with hope.</p><p>Kloppman considered the boys’ question for a beat. “I’ll move a spare bunk to the storage room. It won’t be pretty, but it’s better than nothing.”</p><p>“I’ll work and do whatever you need me to do, sir, I…” Hannah closed her eyes again, a faint dizzy spell taking her by surprise.</p><p>“Easy there,” Race looked up at Klopmann. “She needs to lie down.”</p><p>“I’ll ask one of the boys to help.”</p><p>“Cowboy,” said Race firmly. “Get Cowboy.”</p><p>Klopmann nodded and left.</p><p>“Racetrack, I…”</p><p>“Shhh,” Race put a careful hand to her forehead. Hannah jumped at the contact. “S’alright,” Race used his thumb to stroke her temple in what he hoped was a soothing manner. “I’s just checking ta see ya ain’t burnin’ up.”</p><p>Thankfully, she wasn’t, and when Jack and Klopmann came down the stairs again, Race breathed a sigh of relief. He helped Hannah follow behind the two carrying the spare bunk and nodded his thanks.</p><p>“You’s okay?” Jack watched Racetrack help Hannah sit on the bed.</p><p>“I’m fine,” Hannah blinked up at them.</p><p>Race’s lip twitched in amusement. “That ain’t the foist time I’s hearin’ that.”</p><p>“You’s need anythin’?” Jack glanced over at Race and then back down at Hannah. “Some water or somethin’ from Tibby’s?”</p><p>“I’m—“<br/>“Bring her some soup,” Race didn’t let Hannah finish. He handed Jack his extra five cents. “And a ham sandwich and a danish.”</p><p>“Where did you’s…?”</p><p>“Had a good day sellin’ today,” Race answered Jack with confidence.</p><p>“I can’t take your money,” Hannah’s eyes widened.</p><p>Race sat down on the bunk next to her. “Think nothin’ of it, sweetheart. Who knows, maybe tomorrow I’ll get another hot tip an’ make three times that.”</p><p>“I’ll pay you back in full,” said Hannah.</p><p>Jack looked down at the pair as Kloppman wrote in his book. “You’s got a name, kid?”</p><p>Hannah swallowed thickly. “It’s Ha— it’s Sweetheart,” she looked down at her hand-me-down boots.</p><p>Race grinned. “You’s gonna like it jus’ fine here.”</p><p>“Thank you both,” Hannah fiddled with the cuff of her sleeve. “You didn’t have to do any of this.”</p><p>“Ain’t no problem,” said Jack. “I’s gonna run off an’ get ya soup. I’ll be back in two shakes.”</p><p>“Thanks Cowboy,” said Race. He watched Jack leave before looking over at Hannah again. “Okay, jus’ me now. You sure you’s feelin’ alright?”</p><p>Hannah closed her eyes again. “It’s just…” she tried to find the right words. “The world is spinning so fast and I feel dizzy sometimes… I’m so sorry, Racetrack. You hardly need my burdens.”</p><p>“When’s the last time ya ate somethin’?”</p><p>“I was trying to apologize.”</p><p>“An’ I’s askin’ you’s a question.”</p><p>Hannah felt like hiding. “I don’t…I don’t…”</p><p>“Remember?” Race finished for her. He sighed deeply. He knew the tole true hunger took.</p><p>“I’m sorry.”</p><p>“Stop sayin’ that,” said Race. “You’s don’t need to apologize for nothin’.”</p><p>“It’s just,” Hannah paused. “You have a life here. I have done nothing but intrude on it.”</p><p>Race tried to read her expression; guilt mixed with fatigue. “You’s done no so thing. I’s been doin’ the same thing for years. You’s the most interestin’ thing that’s happened ta me in a long while. Besides,” he smiled at her. “I’s always lookin’ for a little adventure.”</p><p>Hannah found herself smiling back. “You were born here, then? In New York?”</p><p>“Yeah,” Race helped her lie back so she could prop herself up against the pillows. He stayed sitting on the edge of the cot. “I’s only ever seen New York. Grew up right here in the lodging house, jus’ like all the other boys. You’s not from here, are ya?”</p><p>“No,” Hannah folded her hands over her lap and looked down at them. “My Ma and Pa owned farm land in Wisconsin.”</p><p>“Wisconsin?” Race could’t help but stare at the girl. “You’s come all the way from Wisconsin? Why’d ya take off?”</p><p>“I…” Hannah took in a shuddering breath. Race mentally slapped himself. He really needed to learn to think before he spoke. He knew better than to ask someone why they ran away. Jack had always told them to leave people’s past in the past. Asking where someone came from was one thing, but asking why they left was not okay.</p><p>“You’s don’t have ta answer that,” Race tried to make eye contact with Hannah. “Whatever happened to ya is no business of mine.”</p><p>Hannah nodded and exhaled slowly. “We can trade.”</p><p>“Huh?”</p><p>“A truth for a truth. I tell you one true thing and then you have to tell me one true thing.”</p><p>Race considered her offer. It was a fair trade. “Sure, I’m all in.”</p><p>“So you want to know why I left?”</p><p>“If you’s okay with tellin’ me,” said Race.</p><p>“It’s alright,” said Hannah. She closed her blue eyes again, as if collecting herself, and then opened them to meet Racetrack’s hazel ones. “My Ma and Pa… they were having trouble making ends meet. We had a hard winter and then a drought the next summer… Ma had to sell her good dress and the only two pieces of jewelry she owned. There were seven of us. I knew I was a burden, always sickly and too small to work in the fields, so I decided to go. I saw an advertisement in the town’s store catalogue for factory workers in New York. I told my older sister Sarah of my plans to leave and help save the farm. I knew I could find factory work in the city, so I cut out the advertisement, told Sarah where I was planning to go, and left in a freight train.” Hannah stopped for a moment, unsure of how to continue. “I haven’t been able to send them anything. Not a penny.”</p><p>“Jesus, Sweetheart,” Race put a comforting hand over Hannah’s. She looked up at him in shock. “Sorry,” he pulled his hand back.</p><p>“No, no, it’s alright,” Hannah reached for his hand. “I’m just not used to it, is all.”</p><p>“Not used to it?”</p><p>“I wasn’t allowed to befriend boys.”</p><p>“Ah,” Race nodded. “Your folks real strict then, huh? Go to church every Sunday?”</p><p>Hannah shrugged. “Somethin’ like that,” she imitated Racetrack’s New York accent.</p><p>He grinned. “You’s learin’ real quick, Sweetheart.”</p><p>“Can I ask you a question?”</p><p>“Sure,” Race forced a quick smile.</p><p>“How did you become a newsboy?”</p><p>“Oh,” Race chuckled. That wasn’t as bad as he feared. “Well… I’s ran away from home when I’s about seven. Tried pickpocketing for a while an’ that’s how Jack— we call him Cowboy— that’s how he found me. Tryin’ ta steal some rich fella’s wallet. Cowboy took me back to the lodging house an’ showed me the ropes. I’s been sellin’ papes since.”</p><p>Hannah knew there was more to Racetrack’s story, but a faint knock on the storage room door kept her from asking more questions.</p><p>“That’ll be Cowboy with ya soup,” said Race. “Want me to go or…?”</p><p>“No,” Hannah held his hand tighter as he made to get up. “Can you stay?”</p><p>Race sat back down. “Course I can.”</p><p>“If you want to. If you want to join your friends, I understand.”</p><p>“I’s stayin’ right here,” said Race. “An’ it’s ‘cause I’s want to.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Stars</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>What am I even doing?? <br/>The things I write and do when I should be sleeping. What a time. <br/>Anyway, any and all feedback is so welcome and appreciated! Thanks so much for reading this hot mess (LOL). Let me know if y'all would like me to continue??</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>2</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Smoke billowed up from the dismantling lift shaft, filling the air with thick, black, toxic clouds.</em>
</p><p>
  <em> Hannah grabbed hold of the few girls left beside her and forced them down to the floor with her. She tried to remember her Pa’s old advice. Stay close to the floor where the air is clean. She could hardly see, hardly make out any shapes, let alone an exit. All she could hear was screaming and muffled cries of anguish. Names of people she didn’t have the chance to know and families she could have met.</em>
</p><p>
  <em> Hannah managed to find her way to a window, all the while praying for some sort of miracle.</em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Hannah?” Little Julia’s voice came from beside her, weak and horse from the smoke.</em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Right here, darling,” Hannah grabbed hold of her hand. “See that? That’s the way out.”</em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Jump?”</em>
</p><p>
  <em> “No, no,” Hannah coughed. “We’ll climb down the drain pipe.”</em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Will it hold us?” The little girl’s eyes watered trying to focus.</em>
</p><p>
  <em> Hannah tried to control her shaking. They didn’t have much time. “I’m sure it will,” she said. It had to. They’d die if they stayed or they could die if they tried to get out. Hannah didn’t care about herself. She just needed to get Julia out and safe.</em>
</p><p>
  <em> “You’re going to get us out?” The little girl squeezed Hannah’s hand.</em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Absolutely.”</em>
</p><p>
  <em> “We’re not going to die?”</em>
</p><p>
  <em> “No,” Hannah answered firmly. She burned her hands opening the window, but she managed. She saw crowds of people gathering around the building, all screaming and crying while firefighters tried to pump water up to the smoke. Hannah grabbed both of Julia’s hands and looked her firmly in the eyes. “You hold on to me and don’t let go, okay? We’re getting out of here.”</em>
</p><p>
  <em> Hannah waited for Julia to nod before she hoisted herself out the window and onto the ledge. The building was literally falling apart. She felt like she was walking on breaking ice. She put one foot onto the drain pipe and one arm around the ledge to secure herself. Then, she reached out with her other arm and looked up to the frightened little girl.</em>
</p><p>
  <em> “I need you to jump darling. Jump and I’ll catch you, okay?”</em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Okay,” Julia managed. Hannah watched the girl jump out of the window, as she had before. Julia landed on the ledge where Hannah could grab her and hold her with her free arm. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “We’re out, Julia, we’re going to be f—“</em>
</p><p>
  <em> Hannah stopped moving. There was a cracking noise and then a shriek from below. Then everything happened so fast. She heard Julia scream, the drain pipe she had been holding onto snapped and the pair tumbled downwards towards the street.</em>
</p><p>
  <em> She cried out for Julia, arms flailing in every direction.</em>
</p><p>
  <em> She screamed and screamed until another voice broke her fall.</em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Sweetheart!”</em>
</p><p>
  <em> But Hannah could only see the flames whipping around her as they swallowed her life.</em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Sweetheart!” The voice came clearer. “Hannah!”</em>
</p><p> </p><p>“Hannah! Wake up!”</p><p>Hannah jolted upright, her body covered in sweat. She couldn’t catch her breath. The smoke was still there. She could practically smell it. She tried to focus on what was in front of her. Someone was holding onto her arms. Hannah blinked rapidly before opening her eyes again.</p><p>“Race?” Her voice shook.</p><p>“That’s it,” Race ran his hands up and down her arms soothingly. “I’s get ‘em all the time too. Plenty of us do.”</p><p>“F—fire,” Hannah looked around in a panic.</p><p>“Ain’t no fire here, Sweetheart. You’s safe.”</p><p>“But the smoke,” Hannah fisted the blanket with white knuckles.</p><p>“Ain’t no smoke here. Ain’t no fire. We’s all safe and you’s jus’ fine,” Racetrack looked over his shoulder at the small gathering of boys outside the door.</p><p>“A d—dream?” Hannah tried to formulate words in her fear.</p><p>“Yeah, you’s havin’ a nightmare. A real bad one. But you’s safe here, okay?”</p><p>Hannah let out a small sigh when Race pulled her to rest against his chest. “Safe?”</p><p>“Yeah, you’s safe,” Race repeated gently. He watched Hannah lift her head from his chest to see the small gathering of boys over his shoulder.</p><p>“I woke you up.”</p><p>“We’s light sleepers,” Race lied easily. “Don’t ya worry ‘bout it.”</p><p>“I’m so sorry,” Hannah dropped her head in shame.</p><p>Race lifted her chin up again. “What did I’s tell ya ‘bout bein’ sorry?”</p><p>“But I woke you all.”</p><p>“Don’t matter,” Race looked over his shoulder. “You’s fellas skidaddle?”</p><p>The boys muttered a string of apologies before dispersing back to the upstairs bunks.</p><p>“Race,” Hannah looked up at him. “I really am sorry.”</p><p>“Don’t be,” Race tried to smile comfortingly. “Like I’s said, I’s still get nightmares all the time. So does Kid Blink and Crutchy, an’ even Cowboy once in a while.”</p><p>“It’s just…I didn’t think it would happen here.”</p><p>“You’s don’t have to explain ta me,” said Race. “Was it somethin’ I’s did before? Somethin’ I’s said? I’s always runnin’ my mouth.”</p><p>“No,” Hannah said firmly. Then she saw the newspaper Racetrack had left for her to read beside the cot. Race noticed her eyes focus on the headline.</p><p>“Factory disaster death toll rises,” Race mumbled. “An’ here I’s thought the headline was so good.”</p><p>“Race…” Hannah tried to reason with him. She hadn’t meant for him to feel guilty.</p><p>“You’s were there?” Race felt Hannah pull back. He looked into her clear blue eyes, still devoid of any tears, and held her hands. “You’s got out.”</p><p>“I fell.”</p><p>“But you’s survived.”</p><p>“I fell and my sister fell with me. I killed her.”</p><p>“No,” Race said fiercely, forcing Hannah to maintain eye contact. “You’s did no such thing.”</p><p>“I told my Ma and Pa not to send Julia with me. I told them she was too young,” Hannah gasped. “You weren’t there. I could have had a better idea. I just remember waking up in the hospital next to nurses who told me it was a miracle that I hadn’t fallen from too high and that someone had caught me. But nobody had been there for Julia. The drain pipe was too flimsy. I should have known it wouldn’t support us. I should have—“</p><p>“Hey, hey,” Race stroked her hands with his thumbs. “You’s did everythin’ in your power to save her.”</p><p>“She’s gone, Race. She’s gone and it’s all because of me.”</p><p>“You’s know that for sure? Did you’s read her name here?” He pulled one hand back to open the newspaper.</p><p>“I’ve checked every list and every charitable hospital…”</p><p>“Then she could still be alive,” said Race.</p><p>“What?” Hannah didn’t dare hope.</p><p>“If her name ain’t here…” Race read through the long list of names. “Ain’t nobody named Julia here, Sweetheart.”</p><p>“You really think she could have made it?”</p><p>Race put the newspaper down. “I’s don’t think you’s should give up. Tomorrow I’s can help you look. We’ll go to the hospitals an’ ask the nuns.”</p><p>“You don’t have to do that for me, Race.”</p><p>“Think nothin’ of it, Sweetheart. You’s gonna find your sister again, jus’ you see,” Race watched Hannah’s small smile fade again. “Hey, you’s wanna get outta here?”</p><p>“It’s far too late.”</p><p>“I don’t mean out, out, I jus’ mean,” he stood up and held out his hand. “Trust me?”</p><p>“Okay,” Hannah replied. She didn’t want to seem scared.</p><p>“C’mon then,” Race lead her up the stairs, past the boys’ bunk area and up to the attack where there was a small window. He opened it and went out, helping Hannah out behind him, and lead them onto the roof.</p><p>“Oh my goodness,” Hannah could’t help but gasp. It was an incredible sight.</p><p>“You’s can see half a’ New York from up here,” Race grinned. “See that back there? That’s Sheepshead races, where I found you’s.”</p><p>“This is incredible.”</p><p>“I’s thought you’s like it,” said Race hopefully as they sat down. “I’s come out here a lot, ya know, jus’ to think and get away a bit.”</p><p>Hannah nodded simply and looked out at the city.</p><p>“Some of the factory girls used to make fun of us,” She explained quietly. “They used to think Julia and I were too prim and good for the likes of them. They thought we had run away from paradise.”</p><p>Racetrack nodded at this. “Ain’t nobody’s place to define another person’s hurt.”</p><p>“Exactly,” said Hannah.</p><p>“Things are rough all ova,” Race took a deep breath. “Jus’ ‘cause you’s come from a good family and went ta school, that don’t mean you’s had it good.”</p><p>“Right,” Hannah looked down at the city. “It’s beautiful up here.”</p><p>“S’alright ain’t it?” Race smiled. “It ain’t much, but it’s home.”</p><p>“I think it’s lovely,” said Hannah.</p><p>“What’s it like where you’s from?”</p><p>“What, in Wisconsin?”</p><p>“Yeah,” Race lay down and looked up at Hannah as if inviting her to join him.</p><p>Hannah shifted uncomfortably for a moment before making up her mind. “Well,” she lay down beside him. “The stars are brighter.”</p><p>“Really?”</p><p>“Really,” Hannah felt herself smile at the memory. “Sometimes I’d go out at night, just like this, and lie out in the field and look up at the stars. My Pa used to show me the different constellations. Like that one right there,” Hannah pointed up. “That’s the big dipper.”</p><p>“An’ dat’s the north star,” Race said while pointing as well.</p><p>Hannah turned her head to smile at him. “Yes it is! How did you learn that?”</p><p>“My Mama,” Race paused and gazed up at the stars. “She was real smart. Knew a little ‘bout everythin’.”</p><p>“Do you remember her?”</p><p>“Hmm?”</p><p>“Oh,” Hannah looked back up in embarrassment. “I didn’t mean to be rude.”</p><p>Race chuckled at her flushed face. “You’s ain’t rude, Sweetheart.”</p><p>“It’s not my place to ask questions.”</p><p>“Alright den,” Race cleared his throat dramatically. “How about we’s trade.”</p><p>“A truth for a truth?”</p><p>“It was your idea.”</p><p>“Well, if you put it that way,” Hannah’s upper lip twitched in amusement.</p><p>Racetrack grinned at her challenge. “I’s remember bits n’ pieces,” he gestured up at the stars. “I’s know she liked to sing. She was always singin’ at this ol’ piano we’s had in the livin’ room. An’ I’s remember this pasta she used to make with lots a’ garlic an’ basil,” Race closed his eyes at the memory. “An’ I’s remember her teachin’ me ta read, even before we’s learnin’ it in school. I's only went ta school for two years. My Mama, she'd sit with me in this big ol’ chair by the fireplace an’ read poetry to me. She used ta read outta this book she brought from Italy with her.”</p><p>Hannah watched Race finish his story with a smile. “She sounds lovely.”</p><p>“Yeah,” Race replied and looked over at her. “She was. I’s ‘bout six when she died of TB.”</p><p>“TB?”</p><p>“Tuberculosis.”</p><p>“Oh,” Hannah frowned. “I’m so sorry, Race.”</p><p>“Eh,” Race brusher her concern aside. “I’s don’t remember much ‘bout her. Guess you’s don’t miss what ya never knew, right?”</p><p>“I suppose so.”</p><p>“So,” Race read her expression carefully. “You’s went ta school then?”</p><p>“I did. It was a one room school house, but I was in the last grade of my reader and almost last in mathematics.”</p><p>“So you’s smart then, huh?”</p><p>“I’d hardly say that.”</p><p>“Top of your class?” Race joked.</p><p>“That would be my sister, Emma,” said Hannah. “She’s the smartest and the best at everything.”</p><p>Race could hear a touch of resentment in her voice, but he let it be. “You’s have a favourite subject or somethin’? You’s like readin’ an’ writin’ the best?”</p><p>“Oh good grief, no,” Hannah let out a breathy laugh that Race instantly wanted to hear more of. “Twice a week our teacher would teach us singing notes.”</p><p>“You’s mean how ta read music?”</p><p>“Yes!” Hannah said excitedly. “I learned that the fastest out of anyone. I always got asked to sing solos for concerts. Our teacher even took me over to the church every Friday after school to show me how to play the organ. I could read the music from our entire hymnal.”</p><p>“I bet you’s real good,” Race smiled at her pride.</p><p>“I don’t know about that,” Hannah flushed again and looked back up at the stars. Race saw her retreating back into herself; the memories of her nightmare resurfacing.</p><p>“I’s remember my Mama used to sing outta this book on da piano,” Race watched Hannah’s expression soften again. “Dunno who wrote the stuff— started with an M I’s think—but it was real pretty an’ all in Italian too. I’s still got it in my bag up by my bunk.”</p><p>“Mozart?”</p><p>“Dat’s it!” Race replied energetically. “None of the other fella’s knew who the hell I’s talkin’ about when I’s tried showin’ it to them.”</p><p>Hannah’s eyes sparkled. “Oh, Mozart is simply <em>divine.”</em> She smiled a warm, true, smile that made Race want to take a photograph of her and save it forever. “I’ve never actually heard any of his music performed before. I’ve only ever learned some. But my teacher, she came from Milwaukee, she told all about going to concerts and oh, I’d simply <em>love</em> to go to the op—“ Hannah stopped herself and swallowed hard. “Never mind. I’m being so foolish.”</p><p>“What’re you’s talkin’ ‘bout?” Race saw the light flicker from her eyes and slowly reached for her hand.</p><p>“It’s nothing.”</p><p>“It ain’t nothin’ if you’s love it.”</p><p>“It’s absurd for me to even consider. How could a poor, street girl from a farm earn enough money to even get close to the opera? Emma always said I had my head up in the clouds.”</p><p>“Ain’t nothin’ wrong with that,” said Race firmly. “Hey, can I make you’s a promise?”</p><p>“Race I—“</p><p>“One day I’s take ya to the opera. We’ll go, all proper-like n’ hoity-toity, an’ have ice cream afterwards.”</p><p>“But Race how—“</p><p>“What’s the harm in dreamin’?” Race gave her hand a light squeeze. “We’s should be gettin’ inside before we fall asleep up here an’ the fellas give us an ear full.”</p><p>“Right,” Hannah followed him inside again.</p><p>“Hey, Sweetheart?”</p><p>“Yes?”</p><p>“We’ll find ya sister okay? Tomorrow we’ll go and I’s help ya.”</p><p>Hannah nodded. Race hesitated going into the boys’ bunk area.</p><p>“Racetrack?”</p><p>“Yeah?”</p><p>“Thank you,” said Hannah earnestly.</p><p>“For what?”</p><p>“For the stars and for the opera.”</p><p>Race grinned. “Hey, we’s ain’t even gone yet.”</p><p>“But it’s a good dream.”</p><p>“You’s gonna be okay ta sleep?” Race asked while grasping the doorknob to the bunk room.</p><p>Hannah nodded and smiled a small smile. “I’ve got a good dream now.”</p>
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<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Friend</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>oh hey it's me again<br/>hope y'all enjoy this actual word vomit &amp; leave a review or something :)</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Hannah woke up to chatter from the floor above her. She’d slept in a warm bed for the first time in months. Her body wasn’t aching from sleeping on park benches and never-ending shivering. Slowly, as to not cause any kind of disturbance, she made her way to the front desk where she’d first met Kloppman.</p><p>“Well aren’t you up early,” Mr. Kloppman smiled down at the girl.</p><p>“I’m used to it,” said Hannah.</p><p>“Factory girl?”</p><p>“And a farm girl.”</p><p>“Hard worker,” Mr. Kloppman handed her a towel and a bar of soap. “There’s a small washroom just past your cot.”</p><p>“Oh, I couldn’t possibly…”</p><p>“Used to be my wife’s,” Kloppman explained gently. “I used to run the place with her. Me doin’ the books and she doin’ the cookin’ n’ such. It’ll be nice to put it to some use again seein’ as I can’t cook so much as an egg.”</p><p>Hannah couldn’t help but chuckle. “As long as you promise you don’t mind?”</p><p>“Not at all,” said Klopmann. “You make yourself at home. The boys should be down pretty soon.”</p><p>“Alright,” Hannah smiled up at the old man and headed back to her where she’d slept. True to his word, there was a small washroom attached to the storage room and beyond that, a small kitchen.</p><p>Hannah noticed two basins filled with water. She washed her face using the smaller basin, tried to remove as much grime from her finger nails as she could, and managed to wash and re-braid her hair using the larger basin. She was glad there wasn’t a mirror. She couldn’t stand to see the frayed edges and stains on her Ma’s hand-made dress.</p><p>There was indeed a small, modest, kitchen not five feet away. A small smile spread across Hannah’s face when she saw the stove, a table top, and a tiny pantry filled with flour. A rolling pin lay over the table top, where it appeared to have been neglected for months.</p><p>And so, finding an apron hanging over a hook, Hannah busied herself. There were enough ingredients for bread, biscuits, and possibly porridge as well. Hannah didn’t miss how Klopmann watched her from his desk every now and then, pausing his work to smile and nod her way. Hannah pulled the first of the biscuits out of the oven, but nearly dropped them when she heard a familiar voice.</p><p>“Klopmann got ya woikin’ already?”</p><p>“Oh!” Hannah exclaimed. “No, no, not at all. I just thought I’d make myself useful.”</p><p>“Hold ya horses, it’s only me,” Racetrack leaned against the door frame. A cigar dangled between his lips. “You’s sleep alright?”</p><p>“Fine,” Hannah answered. “You can bring the other boys down if you’d like.”</p><p>“Oh trust me they’s comin’ as soon as they’s smell dis.”</p><p>“It isn’t much. Just what my Ma used to make and—Race!” Hannah cried as the boy reached for a biscuit and took a bite.</p><p>“What?” Race grinned. “Dis is—ow!—Jesus, dis is hot!”</p><p>“They just came out of the oven. What did you expect?”</p><p>Race chuckled and sucked in air to cool the bite he’d taken. “They’s real good!”</p><p>“Thank you.”</p><p>“So,” Race took a step closer. “You’s gonna be doin’ dis every mornin’?</p><p>“If Klopmann finds my work agreeable.”</p><p>“Agreeable,” Race shook his head in amusement. “We’s ain’t had a spread like dis in years. I’s thinkin’ you’s stayin’ here however long you’s want.”</p><p>“Race?”</p><p>“Yeah, Sweetheart?”</p><p>“Thank you,” Hannah dared to take a step closer as well. “For bringing me here.”</p><p>Race opened his mouth to respond, but a boisterous voice from the night before filled the air.</p><p>“Eh Race!” Cowboy strode into the kitchen. “Holy smokes, check dis out!”</p><p>“The bread should be ready soon,” Hannah took a step away from Race.</p><p>“You’s cookin’ for the president or somethin’?”</p><p>“It’s just simple,” Hannah’s darted between the oven and Cowboy.</p><p>“You’s feelin’ alright?” Cowboy took a biscuit for himself.</p><p>Hannah nodded her head. “Yes, thank you.”</p><p>“Ain’t no need ta be so formal ‘round here, Sweetheart. We’s jus’ a bunch of regular fellas hawkin’ headlines.”</p><p>“Oh.”</p><p>“What’s got you so silent, Race?” Cowboy watched how the boy’s eyes hardly left Hannah.</p><p>“Nothin’,” Race mumbled and shook himself. “You’s don’t mind if I’s take Hannah out sellin’ today, right?”</p><p>“Fine by me,” said Cowboy. “Mind if I’s take him off your hands for a second, Sweetheart?”</p><p>“Of course, go ahead,” said Hannah. She watched the pair leave the kitchen just as a collection of other newsies came in.</p><p>“Listen, kid,” Jack pulled Race away from the others. “You’s be careful.”</p><p>Race quirked an eyebrow in surprise. “What’re you’s talkin’ about?”</p><p>“Jus’…” Jack ran a hand through his hair. “She ain’t like us.”</p><p>“I’s know that.”</p><p>“Listen, Race, I’s ain’t callin’ ya dumb or nothin’, I’s jus’ sayin’ be careful. She don’t know from nothin’.”</p><p>“She’s smart!” Race said defensively.</p><p>“Book smart, maybe,” Jack lowered his voice. “But the goil ain’t street smart. I mean, look at her. She’s as fresh-faced and wide-eyed as a school girl. She don’t know from these streets or nothin’. I’s just sayin’ be careful with her, Race. Watch who she meets, who sees her…”</p><p>“The Delancey Brothers,” Race frowned. He hadn’t thought of them. Jack was right, he had to be careful.</p><p>“They’s get one good look at her an’ she’s got trouble.”</p><p>“I’s won’t let her outta my sight,” said Race.</p><p>“Good man,” said Cowboy. “She ain’t too hard on the eyes is she?”</p><p>“What?”</p><p>“You’s hoid me,” Jack’s lips twitched in amusement. “I’s see the way you’s lookin’ at her.”</p><p>“I’s jus’ met her,” said Race.</p><p>Jack put a hand on Race’s shoulder. “Watch yourself, kid. Don’t go fallin’ too hard n’ too fast.”</p><p>“I ain’t,” Race followed Cowboy back into the kitchen. He saw Hannah talking to little Les and smiled. “Dis one talkin’ your ear off again?” Race approached them.</p><p>“Hardly,” Hannah smiled back. “He was just telling me about what he’d been learning in school.”</p><p>“Smarty-pants.”</p><p>“Hey!” Les looked up at the older boy. “She’s real pretty,” he whispered as he walked past Race to join his brother.</p><p>Race chuckled and looked at Hannah, who was flushing in embarrassment. “The kid’s right, ya know.”</p><p>“Oh good grief,” Hannah took her apron off. “Well, it looks like they’ve about eaten everything.”</p><p>“You’s wanna head out, then? I’s can buy me papes, do some sellin’, an’ then we’s start looking for ya sister?”</p><p>“If that’s what you’d like.”</p><p>“It is,” said Race, snatching the last biscuit. “Here,” he tossed it to her. “Cause I’s know you’s feedin’ us instead of yourself.”</p><p>Hannah chose not to argue. She followed Racetrack out the door and to the distribution office where he took her hand and pulled her close to his side.</p><p>“Stay by my side, okay?”</p><p>“Okay,” said Hannah shakily.</p><p>“You’s with me, alright? If anyone asks any questions.”</p><p>“Okay.”</p><p>“Keep your eyes down,” said Race. He got his papers without a fuss. Rounded the corner away from the distribution office and was about to breath a sigh of relief when he spotted them. He pulled Hannah into the nearest alley and pressed them against the wall.</p><p>“Race, what’s wrong?” Hannah whispered wide-eyed.</p><p>“Shh,” Race put a gentle hand over top of Hannah’s to calm her. “Jus’ wait here a second.”</p><p>Hannah nodded nervously as Race waited for the Delancey Brothers to pass them. When they did, he let himself breath and relax.</p><p>“Who was that?”</p><p>“Delancey Brothers,” Race answered bitterly. “No-good sons a bitches is what.”</p><p>Hannah tried to hide her gasp at his language. “No friends of yours, then.”</p><p>“Definitely not,” said Race. “They’s soaked Mush last week for no good reason. He’s jus’ mindin’ his own business an’ gets two shiners for it. Two against one, Sweetheart. That ain’t never hoid of. That’s not a fair fight.”</p><p>Hannah digested Race’s information carefully. “Soaked?”</p><p>“Beat up,” Race explained. “Almost knock him out cold too.”</p><p>“But why?”</p><p>“‘Cause we’s their sport,” said Race. “Dat’s why I’s don’t want ‘em seein’ ya. An’ if they do, I’s want ya to be with one of us.”</p><p>“Okay,” Hannah followed Race back out onto the street.</p><p>“Ain’t nothin’ to worry ‘bout, Sweetheart. We’s take good care of ya.”</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>***</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>Selling newspapers, Hannah soon learned, was an art form. The way Racetrack manipulated headlines, changed his facial expression to suit the customers’ demeanour, the way he transformed an every-day story into a must-read article, was impressive beyond measure. He was a true master of his craft; selling almost every paper he had within two hours, all the while showing Hannah how it was done. When he had two left, he handed them to Hannah and grinned.</p><p>“Now you’s give it a go.”</p><p>“What?” Hannah tried to hand the papers back to him.</p><p>“Try it.”</p><p>“I couldn’t.”</p><p>“Sure you’s can. Jus’ give it a try.”</p><p>“But I don’t know what to say,” Hannah scanned the papers nervously.</p><p>“Jus’ say what I’s said,” Racetrack watched her carefully. “Like Cowboy says— elaboratin’ on the truth.”</p><p>“Isn’t that lying?” Hannah realized her naivety instantly and sighed.</p><p>“In a way,” said Race. “I’s consida it bendin’ the truth.”</p><p>Hannah looked up at him. “Just this once.”</p><p>“I’s right here.”</p><p>“Alright,” Hannah took a few steps away from Race and cleared her throat. She looked back over her shoulder at him and saw him smiling broadly. With a small nod, Hannah hoisted a paper in the air and called out the headline she’d heard Race use.</p><p>Race watched proudly. Hannah, despite being nervous and far too good for the likes of selling papers, found herself selling his last two morning editions in no time. When she sold the last paper, she spun around to face Race. Instead of meeting his gaze, she collided with someone Race hadn’t planned on running into. He hadn’t planned on it, but he should have. Because the king of Brooklyn walked wherever he pleased, whenever he pleased, and did whatever he wanted.</p><p>“Watch where you’s goin’, doll face,” Spot Conlon made a pass at the girl.</p><p>“Oh, I’m so sorry,” Hannah backed away from him and bowed her head.</p><p>“Hold up,” he took a step towards her. “Aren’t you’s jus’ the prettiest thing.”</p><p>“Oh, I—“</p><p>“Heya, Spot,” Racetrack strode up to the leader. “How’s it rollin’?”</p><p>“Higgins,” Spot spit in his hand and offered it to him.</p><p>Race shook. “What’re you’s doin’ so far outside a’ Brooklyn?”</p><p>“Same thing you’s doin’ so far outside of ‘Hatten.”</p><p>“Racetrack was just showing me how to sell papers!” Hannah tried to stand tall.</p><p>Spot smirked at this. “Well, ain’t that nice of him.”</p><p>“It is,” said Hannah.</p><p>“So, what’s a sweet thing like you’s doin’ bummin’ around with a gambler when you’s could be exchangin’ pleasantries with a king?”</p><p>“Race is…” Hannah paused and looked up at Race. “My friend.”</p><p>“That’s sweet, doll face.”</p><p>“Her name’s Sweetheart,” said Race, trying to keep the edge from his voice. He and Spot got along well— a good game of cards always saw to that— but Race couldn’t help but feel defensive at the way Spot eyed Hannah up and down.</p><p>Spot snickered at Race’s words. “Suits ya,” he said. “Tell me, <em>Sweetheart</em>, you’s spent any time in Brooklyn?”</p><p>“I’m staying in Manhattan,” Hannah answered.</p><p>“That ain’t answerin’ my question.”</p><p>Hannah hesitated while shifting her weight nervously. “I’ve been lots of different places.”</p><p>“Suppose you’s were ta spend some time in Brooklyn…” Spot took another casual step closer to the girl. “We’s could come ta some kinda agreement, me an’ you’s.”</p><p>“She ain’t that kinda goil, Spot,” Race said before Hannah could open her mouth.</p><p>Spot’s eyes widened in mock surprise. “Well then,” he backed off slowly. “I’s let you two go on your way. Tell Jacky-boy I’s comin’ ta see him real soon.”</p><p>“Will do,” said Race.</p><p>“Oh an’ Sweetheart?”</p><p>Hannah swallowed hard. “Yes?”</p><p>“Don’t be a stranger.”</p><p>And with that, Spot cast a final glance at the pair and strode off in the direction of Brooklyn.</p><p>“Race…” Hannah look up at him nervously. “That boy… Spot… did he think I was—“</p><p>“Stop right there,” Race put a hand over her own. “You’s ain’t that.”</p><p>“I know that,” said Hannah. “But why did he assume I was?”</p><p>Race sighed. “‘Cause most goils that come ‘round Brooklyn are. It’s the kinda company Spot keeps.”</p><p>“Oh.”</p><p>“Spot’s a bit rough ‘round the edges, but he’s smart and loyal. Always comes through for ya. But you’s should steer clear of him. You’s don’t wanna get tangled up in one of his games,” said Race, remembering the look Spot had given Hannah all too clearly.</p><p> </p>
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<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Found</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Hi I like to write things that are tragic and also make you feel things so apologies for that. <br/>Slight trigger warning, as there are mentions of death and a dead body. Nothing crazy, just, ya know...<br/>Let me know if y'all like this word vomit at all??? Any feedback is so great and appreciate :) :)</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>All too soon, Hannah found herself standing in front of a hospital with Racetrack. Noticing her shaking form, he spoke up.</p><p>“I’s can go in for you’s…” Race fiddled with his pocket watch nervously.</p><p>“No,” Hannah smoothed the skirt of her dress. “No, this is my problem and I’ll be the one to deal with it. You’ve done far too much already.”</p><p>“Ain’t no shame in askin’ for help,” said Race.</p><p>“I’ll be fine,” Hannah took a deep breath. Instead of calming her, the breath seemed to get caught in her throat. What little composure she had gathered began to crumble.</p><p>“Hey, hey, hey,” Race came around to face her. “I’s go in with ya, okay?”</p><p>“You—“ Hannah gasped. “You don’t need to do that for me.”</p><p>“Think nothin’ of it, Sweetheart.”</p><p>“I’m usually not like this. Usually I’m—“ Hannah gasped for breath again. “Stronger than this.”</p><p>“Shhh,” Race placed his hands on top of her shaking ones. “How about we’s go in togetha?”</p><p>Hannah refused to look up at his sympathetic expression, but nodded. “Alright,” she let him guide her inside.</p><p>They approached the front desk slowly, keenly aware of how out of place they looked. A nurse glanced for at them once, raised an eyebrow, and looked back down at a stack of papers.</p><p>“Yes?” She marked something down.</p><p>“Hello,” Hannah felt Race squeeze her hand in re-assurance. “Would you be able to help me? I’m looking for my sister. She wasn’t found after the textile factory blaze. She would be nine years old, blonde hair, with blue eyes and a slight dusting of freckles. Her name is Julia Woods.”</p><p>Race watched Hannah speak with such decorum, such strength, he was left stunned.</p><p>“Woods?” The nurse glanced down at them again.</p><p>“Yes, Mme,” said Hannah.</p><p>“One moment,” the nurse reached for a clipboard to her right. She scanned the pages quickly. “No one by that name here,” she put them down again. “Have you checked today’s newspaper listings?”</p><p>“Of course,” Hannah’s jaw clenched. “She’s my <em>sister.”</em></p><p>“I am sorry.”</p><p>“Could you check again, please?”</p><p>“I have looked and I can assure you, there is no girl by the name of Julia Woods here.”</p><p>Hannah reached for the clipboard, but the nurse pulled it back. “This would be a much different situation if I weren’t penniless, correct? You would care a lot more, wouldn’t you, if I came from a wealthy family? Perhaps if I came from family who donated to the hospital, you would look twice?”</p><p>The nurse glared down at Hannah. “Remember your place, my dear.”</p><p>“My place,” Hannah’s eyes narrowed right back. “Is with my sister.”</p><p>“Have you checked mortuaries? There has been an unfortunate backlog in recorded deaths.”</p><p>Hannah’s eyes widened. “I—we—“ She looked at Race in panic.</p><p>“We’s haven’t been to no morgue,” Race supplied icily. His grip on her hand tightened.</p><p>“Then might I suggest you do that,” the nurse turned her attention away from the pair.</p><p>Hannah wasn’t standing for it. “But Mme, I—“</p><p>“Sweetheart,” Race put his arm around her shoulders. “We’s better get outta here.”</p><p>“But my sister! I will not stand for—“</p><p>“Hannah.”</p><p>At the sound of her name, Hannah turned to face Race. He could feel her shaking with anger and fear. “I can’t give up,” she breathed.</p><p>“I’s know that, Sweetheart, but if we’s don’t leave, they’s gonna call the bulls on us an’ send ya to da refuge,” said Race in a low voice.</p><p>“The refuge?”</p><p>“I’s explain later,” said Race. “We’se gotta get our here.” He could see the nurse eying a bell hanging by the end of desk.</p><p>“But Race…”</p><p>“Trust me,” he looked into her wide eyes.</p><p>Hannah nodded weakly and followed him out of the hospital again. After walking for the better part of a block, she felt her breath quicken again. The thought of never seeing Julia, or seeing her dead body in front of her, sent her spiralling. She needed answers.</p><p>“Race,” Hannah’s pleading eyes stopped him in his tracks.</p><p>“Sweetheart, you’s can’t be thinkin’…”</p><p>“I’ve looked everywhere, Race. I need to know if I should keep searching or have hope.”</p><p>“Den let’s keep searchin’.”</p><p>“No,” Hannah bowed her head. “I’ve asked all the hospital and churches I can think of. I need answers, Racetrack. I can’t keep walking around aimlessly searching for her. If they have her in a morgue, I want to be there to see her body.”</p><p>“Jesus, Sweetheart,” Race let out a breath he’d been holding in. “You’s sure ‘bout dis?”</p><p>“Yes,” said Hannah shakily, but with no room for debate.</p><p>“You’s stubborn.”</p><p>“So I’ve been told.”</p><p>“I’s comin’ with ya,” said Race. “I’s know they set up this place— inside a church or somethin’— where they’ve been keepin’ bodies since the morgues are all full an’— I’s talkin’ too much,” he took his cap off to run a hand through his hair. He really needed a cigar. “You’s don’t need ta know all this.”</p><p>Hannah took a deep breath. “It’s alright, Race,” she smiled weakly. “I would have found out eventually, and I would rather hear it from you than from someone who could care less if my sister is alive or dead.”</p><p>“I’s still comin’ with ya.”</p><p>“I know,” said Hannah. “You’d follow me even if I asked you to let me go alone.”</p><p>“You’s know me so well,” Race knocked shoulders with her playfully. Hannah grinned in response and Race felt his heart swell. How, in the midst of everything she was going through, Hannah was able to smile, be brave, and stand tall, was beyond him. Race seemed to know exactly where they were going. In fact, Hannah was quite sure he knew every corner of New York like the back of his hand. They made it to the church he had spoken about, only to have Race stand in front of her.</p><p>“You’s sure ‘bout dis, Sweetheart?” He glanced over his shoulder at a women leaving the church in tears.</p><p>“I need to know, Race.”</p><p>“I’s can jus’ go in an’ ask and tell you what they’s have to say. That way you’s don’t have ta see nothin’.”</p><p>“I have to make arrangements,” said Hannah. “If she’s there…” she took in a quivering breath. “I need to inform the people in charge that, as her sister, funeral arrangements fall to me.”</p><p>Race had a sinking feeling in his gut, a horrible feeling he couldn’t shake, but tried to brush it aside. “Okay,” he reached his hand out as an offering. He didn’t want her to feel uncomfortable. Coming from a good, religious, family, he suspected her views on contact and touch were quite conservative. He made a mental note to always take her cues. When she placed her hand in his, he smiled comfortingly. “You’ll be okay,” he squeezed her hand lightly.</p><p>“Thank you,” Hannah squeezed back.</p><p>“Ready?”</p><p>“Ready,” Hannah followed Race inside the church. There were rows upon rows of cots. The bodies were covered in blankets and scraps and there were small numbered signs at the foot of every cot. Race could feel Hannah shaking beside him and cast her a re-assuring glance.</p><p>“You’s fine,” he murmured. Hannah only nodded quickly and made her way over to what she assumed was an information desk.</p><p>“Hello?” She waited for the nun to notice her.</p><p>“Yes?” The nun put her pen down and looked up at the pair.</p><p>“Hello,” Hannah said again, voice shaking ever so slightly. “I’m looking for my sister.”</p><p>“Name?”</p><p>“Julia Woods,” said Hannah. “She’s eight years old.”</p><p>“Woods?” The nurse asked again as she scanned a list of names.</p><p>“Yes.”</p><p>“I’m afraid I don’t see anyone with that name here…” the nun ran her pen along the list. When she failed to stop on a name, Hannah breathed a sigh of relief. But then she ran the pen back up again and stopped close to the bottom, Hannah felt her blood run cold. “Woods?”</p><p>“No,” Hannah’s voice broke. She knew it wasn’t the correct answer to the nun’s question, but no other word made sense to her. She couldn’t believe it.</p><p>“Julia Woods,” Racetrack supplied as strongly as he could.</p><p>“A girl by that name was brought to us just this morning from St. Joseph’s Hospital,” the nun spun her list around to show them.</p><p>“No,” Hannah said again. “It can’t be.”</p><p>“I am so sorry, dear,” the nun looked at the two sympathetically.</p><p>“Is she— can we—“ Hannah tried.</p><p>“Of course,” the nun got up and lead them over to the third row of cots. She stopped near the middle. “Number seventy six.”</p><p>“She ain’t a number,” Race said as he put an arm around Hannah. Propriety could go to hell, he swallowed hard, Hannah needed someone to hold her up both emotionally and physically. She was shaking so hard, Race feared she would collapse.</p><p>“Of course not,” the nun remained sympathetic. “I am sure she was a lovely girl.”</p><p>“She loved school,” Hannah chocked out. “And running through fields at first light.”</p><p>“Sweetheart,” Racetrack turned her to face him. “You’s don’t have ta go through with this. We’s can leave and you’s don’t need ta do this.”</p><p>Hannah shook her head fiercely. “No, I need to know it’s her.”</p><p>“My dear,” the nun began pulling down the blanket. “I am so very sorry.”</p><p>Race thought he would be sick. The girl, the most perfect imitation of Hannah, lay deathly white and mangled in the cot. She’d been cared for, but the evidence of her death was unavoidable. For a moment, Race prayed that it was a different girl. That they’d somehow gotten the name mixed up, but when he felt Hannah choke back a sob beside him, he knew they’d gotten it horribly right.</p><p>“Oh <em>God,</em>” Hannah blinked rapidly as she clung onto Racetrack’s jacket. “No, no, no, <em>no!”</em></p><p>“Shhh,” Race spun her around so she collapsed against his chest, effectively blocking her from seeing anymore. He glanced at the nun, wordlessly telling her to cover the body again. “S’all done now, Sweetheart. You’s gonna be okay. Let’s get ya outta here.”</p><p>“But—“</p><p>“Shhhh, Sweetheart,” Race stopped her gently. He rubbed comforting circles around her back as he felt her breaths coming in short.</p><p>“Are you…?” The nun wasn’t sure how to proceed. She looked down at Racetrack expectedly.</p><p>“I’s her friend,” said Race. “I’s helpin’ her with da funeral arrangements.”</p><p>“I’m afraid that falls to her parents responsibility.”</p><p>“My parents,” Hannah pushed herself away from Racetrack’s hold slightly. “Aren’t here.”</p><p>“Will you be settling the cost of a funeral?” The nun asked gently.</p><p>“Cost?” Hannah blinked rapidly again, still unable to cry.</p><p>“A funeral costs money, my dear.”</p><p>“But I—“ Hannah swallowed hard. “I haven’t got any money.”</p><p>Racetrack rummaged around in his pocket and retrieved a few coins. “I’s got dis an’ a few extra pennies comin’ tomorrow after I’s done sellin’,” he showed the nun his coins in an outstretched hand. “Will dis help?”</p><p>“I am not in a position to answer that, young man. I am simply the messenger. I do know that even the most modest of funeral masses and procession cost ten dollars.”</p><p>“Ten do— Jesus Chri—“ Race stumbled on his shock and anger and pocketed his coins again. “Sorry, I’s didn’t mean ta be rude.”</p><p>“I understand,” said the nun softly.</p><p>“Dere’s gotta be somethin’ we’s can do,” said Race. He continued stroking Hannah’s back comfortingly.</p><p>The nun placed her hand over her heart in sympathy. “Our parish is holding a pauper’s funeral for all those who weren’t able to manage a marked gravesite.”</p><p>“No!” Race found himself raising his voice. “She ain’t bein’ buried without a name!”</p><p>“I am terribly sorry, young man, but there is precious little we can do in these cases.”</p><p>“Give her a proper funeral!”</p><p>“I’m afraid that’s not my place.”</p><p>“She ain’t a number. She ain’t a nameless kid!” Racetrack cried. He felt Hannah jolt in his hold and took a deep breath. “You’s gotta be able ta do somethin’,” he lowered his voice again.</p><p>The nun shook her head weakly. “I am so sorry.”</p><p>“No! I’s not standin’ for dis!”</p><p>“Race,” Hannah’s broken voice stopped Race from going any further. “Let’s just go.”</p><p>“Sweetheart, let me talk some sense into the folks here,” Race tried to keep his voice down.</p><p>Hannah shook her head against his chest. “There’s nothing to be done.”</p><p>“I’s gotta do somethin’, Sweetheart.”</p><p>“You’ve already done far too much,” Hannah took hold of his hand and pulled him away from the cots.</p><p>“I’s so sorry,” Race watched her nod her thanks towards the nun. “There must be somethin’ I can do to help ya.”</p><p>Hannah looked up at him. “There is,” she smiled weakly. “You can take me back to the lodging house.”</p><p> </p><p> </p>
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<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Conversation</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Is anyone reading this? The fact that some of y'all are is amazing to me. Anyway, to those that are reading, thank ya so much!! Please feel free to comment and review away! Any and all feedback is so welcome and awesome !! xoxo</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Race knew Hannah’s nightmares would be terrible that night. Images of her younger sister lying dead in the cot kept flashing before his eyes, and he hadn’t even known the girl. Race could only imagine how horrifying it must have been for Hannah. That night was the first night he found himself wishing he were a Brooklyn newsie. A Brooklyn newsie, Race thought as he guided Hannah back into the lodging house, wouldn’t have flinched at the sight of a dead body. Brooklyn newsies were tougher; harder. Race was neither of those things. He was kind and good-natured; always striving to make people laugh and bring people joy. In that moment he craved even an ounce of the toughness Spot Conlon had. He needed to stay strong for Hannah.</p><p>He sat her down in a chair by the desk and rang for Klopmann.</p><p>The old man and Cowboy came out from the back, engrossed in their conversation about bills, but stopped short when they saw Race’s blank expression and Hannah’s bowed head.</p><p>“You’s okay, Race?” Jack asked hesitantly.</p><p>“Yeah,” Race walked towards them. “I’s need ta talk to ya.”</p><p>“I’s here,” said Jack.</p><p>“Okay…” Race took a deep breath. “Sweetheart’s sista… we’s—uh— found her today.”</p><p>“Found her? She was missin’?”</p><p>“Yeah, they was in dat factory fire. Sweetheart survived, but she —uh— got separated from her sista an’—well— we’s found her today in one of dem morgues,” Race could hardly string the sentence together.</p><p>Klopmann’s eyes widened. “Damn tragedy,” he cursed under his breath. “Those damn companies exploiting their workers. Making them work in such awful conditions.”</p><p>“She doin’ okay?” Jack asked, fearing the answer.</p><p>“Dunno,” Race glanced over his shoulder at Hannah. “She ain’t said a word the whole ways back an’ she ain’t cried once either.”</p><p>“She’s shocked,” said Jack.</p><p>“She can’t be alone,” said Race. He braced himself for the argument that was sure to come.</p><p>“We’s all here,” said Jack.</p><p>“No, I’s mean tonight,” Race said firmly. “She can’t be alone tonight.”</p><p>“You mean—“</p><p>“I’s stayin’ with her,” Race finished for Jack. “She gets nightmares an’ they’re gonna be real bad tonight. I ain’t lettin’ her go through them alone.”</p><p>Klopmann let out a long sigh. “I don’t think I need to tell you how irregular this is.”</p><p>“You’s think I’s don’t know that?” Race couldn’t help but snap. God, it was <em>not</em> the time for discussions on propriety and decency.</p><p>“It’s a slippery slope, Racetrack,” Klopmann continued gently. “I know these circumstances are different, but the rules—“</p><p>“Awe, ta <em>hell</em> with the rules!” Race cried. “Dere’s a scared, horrified, girl back there and I’s not lettin’ her go through what she’s gone through alone! This has got nothin’ ta do with me bein’ sweet on her or anythin’ like that. I’s just wanna be there for her! She can’t wake up, terrified, and not know where she is and be alone.”</p><p>Jack watched Kloppman’s mouth flap open and shut a few times. “Klopmann,” he said slowly. “You’s know Race’ll sneak in if you’s keep him away. Jus’ let it side. Jus’ dis once. Look the otha way.”</p><p>Race thanked Jack silently with a small smile.</p><p>“Please,” Rack pled with the old man. “She needs someone.”</p><p>Klopmann exhaled slowly. “It better not become a habit,” he muttered. “And you leave the door to her bunk room open.”</p><p>“What?”</p><p>“You heard me, Higgins,” said Kloppman. Jack sniggered under his breath.</p><p>“Why should I leave the doo— oh…<em>oh,”</em> Race shifted his weight awkwardly in realization.</p><p>“Yeah…oh,” Jack’s lip twitched in amusement.</p><p>“I would neva do somthin’ like that. Not tonight, not with Sweetheart bein’ so hurt an’ upset. I’s ain’t some scoundrel,” said Race confidently.</p><p>“All the same,” said Klopmann.</p><p>Race took his cap off to run a hand through his hair. “Fine,” he sighed.</p><p>“Can ya see to Sweetheart while I’s have a woid with Race?” Jack asked Klopmann. The old man nodded and left the two childhood friends standing alone. Race fidgeted nervously. “You’s can see her in a second, Race. Hold ya horses.”</p><p>“Yeah, yeah.”</p><p>“I’s need ta talk to you’s.”</p><p>“Okay,” Race checked over his shoulder again. He saw Hannah nodding at something Klopmann was murmuring to her and relaxed slightly.</p><p>“It’s about Sweetheart.”</p><p>“What about her?” Race brought his attention back to Jack.</p><p>“You’s need ta be careful.”</p><p>“I ain’t tryin’ nothin’,” said Race. “I told ya, she’s hurt an’ I’d neva do that.”</p><p>Jack’s brow furrowed. “That’s not what I’s talkin’ ‘bout, kid. I’s talkin’ ‘bout you bein’ sweet on her.”</p><p>“I ain’t.”</p><p>“You’s are an’ there’s no point in you’s tryin’ ta argue with me. You’s sweet on her an’ she ain’t like other goils we know. She’s a good goil, Race, an’ everything is new and exciting to her. She ain’t never been to a vaudeville, drank whiskey, smoked, or pinched somethin’ just for the hell of it. She looks at you, Race, and she sees a whole woild she ain’t neva seen before.”</p><p>“Okay…” Race processed Jack’s words.</p><p>“Look, all I’s sayin’ is be careful with her. She comes from a different woild, Race. I ain’t sayin’ dat you’s can’t be part of it, or dat you’s don’t belong in it, but I’s sayin’ you’s need ta watch yourself. If someone’s hurt, they’ll do an awful lot of stupid stuff jus’ to feel betta. When Sarah’s mother got real sick last month, you’s ‘member that?” Racetrack nodded weakly. “Yeah, well, she got real cozy all of a sudden. Wanted ta take things further than I’s know she really wanted to. She jus’ wanted ta feel betta and forget, ya know?”</p><p>“I know.”</p><p>“Yeah, well, I’s told her it wouldn’t be decent of me ta take advantage of her like dat. She was real upset for a while, but she understood.”</p><p>“So you’s sayin’ I should step back.”</p><p>“No, I’s sayin’ you’s need ta be careful and watch yourself. Sweetheart’s a real pretty goil an’ don’t think I’s don’t see da way you’s look at her. You’s sweet on her and ya look like you’s could drown in her. You’s just gotta be careful.”</p><p>“I understand,” Race said uncharacteristically quiet. “I’s wanna be dere for her, but I’s don’t wanna hoit her.”</p><p>“I know,” said Jack. He put a comforting hand on Race’s shoulder. “You’s a good man, Race.”</p><p>“I’s shouldn’t have let her go through with it.”</p><p>“What?” Jack felt Racetrack’s shoulders begin to shake.</p><p>“Dat damn morgue an’ da hospital. I’s shoulda jus’ gone by myself and told her afterwards. I’s shoulda neva let her see dat. I’s—“ Race took in a shaky breath. “I’s shoulda stood in front of her or hell, dat nun said Julia had come to them in the mornin’. I’s coulda gone lookin’ for her before sellin’ me papes an’ maybe she woulda been alive an’ Sweetheart coulda talked to her yet. I’s shoulda—“</p><p>“Hey,” Jack put both of his hands on Racetrack’s shoulders to steady him. “Don’t you’s go blamin’ yourself for dis.”</p><p>Race shook his head in defeat. “You’s weren’t dere, Jack. I’s saw her heart break an’ da light go out in her eyes. Dis place—“ he gestured around himself. “Dis city I used ta think was so great, it’s done nothin’ but hoit the most amazin’ goil I’s eva met. I’s can’t do anythin’ ta help her an’…” he chocked back a small sob. “I’s jus’ wanna do right by her.”</p><p>Jack knew there was nothing for it. They were brothers. And when a brother needed help, the other brother would always be there. Jack pulled Racetrack into a fierce hug.</p><p>“You will,” he muttered comfortingly. “You’s a good man, Race. You’s always tryin’ to make people happy. But you’s can’t fix everyone and everything. Some things jus’ stink an’ dere’s nothin’ we’s can do about it, but be dere.”</p><p>“But I’s can’t—“ Race gasped. “I’s can’t jus’ sit dere and watch her life get torn apart.”</p><p>“I know, Race,” Jack said gently. “But you’s can’t fix what happened ta Sweetheart. You’s can’t bring her sista back an’ dere’s nothin’ more you’s coulda done.”</p><p>“I’s didn’t even have enough money ta help her pay for a funeral.”</p><p>“God damn it,” Jack bit back his anger. He knew all too well how it felt to be inadequate. “It’s not your fault. You’s got more than enough ta give her. Money ain’t everything.” </p><p>“Christ,” Race brushed a few angry tears away with his sleeve. “I’s can’t fall apart like dis.”</p><p>“I’s do.”</p><p>“What?”</p><p>“Every time a new kid shows up here an’ tells me their sad story, I’s can’t get ova how cruel da woild is ta kids who ain’t done nothin’ to deserve it. Every time we’s get a new kid come in here, I’s know it’s another tragedy that should neva have happened. I’s the same way when you’s foist walked in here,” said Jack. He felt Race pull back to look at him. “You’s rememba when ya foist came here?”</p><p>“Course I do.”</p><p>“I’s couldn’t fix ya back den, but we’s dere for each otha. Dat’s what you’s gotta do for Sweetheart. Jus’ be dere for her.”</p><p>Racetrack nodded. “Okay.”</p><p>“Talk to her. Tell her stories. Make her laugh. Do what you’s do best. Tell her about Sheepshead an’ da races.”</p><p>“Okay.”</p><p>Jack gave Race’s shoulder a firm squeeze. “Sarah’s comin’ by tomorra mornin’. You’s think Sweetheart would wanna talk to her? Get to know her?”</p><p>“Yeah, I’s think that would be good for her.”</p><p>“Okay den,” Jack smile down at his friend. “You’s feelin’ betta?”</p><p>“Yeah,” Race smiled back weakly. “Sorry ‘bout dat.”</p><p>“It’s nothin’,” said Jack.</p><p>Race sniffled. “Oh, before I’s forget, Conlon said he’d be by ta have a woid with ya. Any idea what dat’s about?”</p><p>Jack kept his expression unreadable. A habit Race had learned to look out for. “Not a clue,” Jack shrugged. “Last a hoid dere’s somethin’ goin’ on in da Bronx, but I’s dunno what Spot would have ta do with that.”</p><p>“Right,” Race wanted to ask his friend more, but he was too tired and frankly, too upset to care about wars brewing between boroughs.</p><p>Jack watched Race head back over to where Hannah was sitting with Klopmann. “Hey Race?”</p><p>“Yeah?”</p><p>“I’s meant what I’s said. You’s a good man.”</p><p>Race shook his head in slight disbelief. “Sure thing, Cowboy.”</p><p>Jack rolled his eyes and headed up to the bunk rooms.</p><p>“Hi,” Hannah looked up at Race. Her eyes were rid-rimmed and glassy, but she still looked like she hadn’t cried.</p><p>“Hi,” Race said back quietly. “You’s wanna go ta bed or do ya want me ta get ya somethin’ ta eat from Tibbies?”</p><p>Hannah shook her head and stood shakily. “I’ll just go to bed if that’s alright?” She looked at Klopmann. “Is there any work that needs doing? Any chores?”</p><p>Klopmann chuckled at her steadfast determination. “You did about all the work that needs to be done this mornin’. You get yourself some rest.” The old man got up to finish his paperwork at the desk. He cast Racetrack a knowing glance before he busied himself with his books.</p><p>Race put a careful arm around Hannah’s shoulders, to steady her shaking, and helped her to her makeshift bunk room.</p><p>“Race?” Hannah looked up at him when they crossed the threshold.</p><p>“Yeah?”</p><p>“I know it’s not proper or decent or—“</p><p>“I’s stayin’,” Racetrack finished. He noticed a small pile of girls’ clothes by her cot. “Looks like Sarah stopped by.”</p><p>“Sarah?”</p><p>“She’s Jack’s goil. Davie and Les’ sista.”</p><p>“Oh,” Hannah felt the soft cotton of the nightgown. “I couldn’t possibly…”</p><p>“You’s one of us now, Sweetheart,” Race put a hand over her own. “Let us help ya and give ya what we can.”</p><p>Hannah nodded, though the motion was hardly noticeable. Race noticed her eyes darting between the washroom and the nightgown. “You’s get changed an’ I’ll wait out in da hall till you’s decent.” He tried not to blush. Lord, it was not the time to be an adolescent boy.</p><p>“Thank you,” Hannah said quietly, hiding her own flush.</p><p>Race rushed out into the hall, quickly gathering his wits. God, this was what Jack had warned him about. He was sweet on Hannah and heaven help him if the mere thought of Hannah <em>changing</em> <em>into a nightgown</em> sent his brain spiralling. He thought about horse manure, the nuns outside who gave them bread, the smell of the bunk room after a fight… anything to get his mind off the beautiful girl he’d only just recently met.</p><p>“Hi,” a soft voice came behind him.</p><p>Racetrack slowly turned around. “I—uh—oh,” he stumbled on his words. “Hello.”</p><p>Hannah wore a simple white nightgown with a high collar and long sleeves with a lace trim. She wrapped herself up in a shawl that he’d seen Sarah wear around the lodging house. Her hair was out of it’s two braids and fell down her shoulders in shining blonde waves. Hannah fiddled with the fringe of the shawl. Race could see her small smile and, though he knew it was at his expense, he chuckled.</p><p>“You’s gettin’ a kick outta me not bein’ able ta talk around beautiful goils?”</p><p>Hannah’s smile widened. “Only a little,” she flushed and glanced up at him.</p><p>“Well, sorry if I’s ain’t as slick as Spot Conlon.”</p><p>“Apology accepted,” Hannah stood back so Race could enter her room again. She reached for the doorknob, but Race stopped her.</p><p>“We’s need ta keep the door open.”</p><p>“Oh,” Hannah cocked her head in confusion.</p><p>“Klopmann’s orders.”</p><p>“Oh.”</p><p>“So nothin’ funny happens.”</p><p>“Funny?” Hannah adjusted the shawl around her and Race felt his knees buckle ever so slightly.</p><p>“Yeah,” Race scratched the back on his neck. “Boys n’ goils aren’t allowed ta share rooms ‘cause—“</p><p>“<em>Oh,”</em> Hannah felt her face heat up. “Of course.”</p><p>“I’s told him it wouldn’t be a problem.”</p><p>“Of course not.”</p><p>“Cause I’s would neva,” Race said gently.</p><p>Hannah sat down on the edge of her cot. “I know that, Racetrack.”</p><p>“Good.”</p><p>“I can sleep on the floor if you would like to take the cot?”</p><p>“Not in your life,” Race grabbed the spare blanket from a nearby chair and lay it across the floor. “I’s takin’ the floor and you’s take da bed.”</p><p>“But Race…” her voice trailed off.</p><p>“It’s fine, Sweetheart,” Race smiled as she lay down. “I’s right here if ya need me. Here,” he held out his hand as an offering.</p><p>Hannah took it so they were connected despite their separate sleeping arrangements.</p><p>“Thank you, Race,” she couldn’t help but yawn.</p><p>“You’s sleep now, Sweetheart. I’s right here.”</p><p>“Race?”</p><p>“Hmm?”</p><p>Hannah closed her eyes. “Would you be able to show me your Ma’s Mozart book tomorrow?”</p><p>Race gave her hand a light squeeze. “Course.”</p>
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<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Plan</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>wow it's me- what a shock. Sorry these updates are a little slower than normal, my mental health isn't in the best place, so the process of writing has been a little slower than usual. Anyway, I hope y'all like this chapter and let me know what ya think!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Hannah blinked, her eyes slowly adjusting to the brightness around her.</p><p>“Heya Sweetheart,” a familiar voice came from beside her. Racetrack sat perched on the edge of her cot, a sweet smile plastered to his face.</p><p>“Hi,” Hannah pressed her face into the pillow to hide her flush.</p><p>“How are you’s feelin’?”</p><p>“I’m fine.”</p><p>“Thought you’d say dat,” Race smirked. “You’s sleep alright?”</p><p>Hannah thought back to her remarkably dreamless sleep. “Yes,” she seemed almost shocked. “Yes, I did sleep well. Thank you, Race.”</p><p>“No problem, Sweetheart. You’s wanna grab some grub? I’s already sold some of me papes from da morning edition. I can buy us some breakfast at Tibby’s.”</p><p>“Or…” Hannah propped herself up onto her elbows. “I could teach you how to make soda bread.”</p><p>Race grinned at this. “If that’s what you’s want.”</p><p>“It is,” Hannah found herself smiling. She noticed her blanket had fallen down to her waist and though she was wearing a cotton nightgown, she felt her face heat up in embarrassment. Race seemed to sense this and bounced up from the bed.</p><p>“You’s—uh— can—uh— make yourself decent and I’s wait in da kitchen.”</p><p>Hannah giggled. Actually giggled. And Racetrack stopped in his tracks, a wide grin spread across his face.</p><p>“What is it?” Hannah wrapped herself in the shawl.</p><p>“Nothin’,” Race didn’t dare turn around. “You’s—uh— got a real nice laugh.”</p><p>“Oh,” Hannah felt a flush creep up her neck. She wasn’t used to happiness or genuine compliments. She wanted to trust Race, but trust was like love, too fickle and altogether too risky.</p><p>She changed and noticed a small mirror that had somehow appeared by the wash basins. Hannah smiled at the thoughtfulness, but soon frowned when she saw her reflection. There were bags under her eyes, her face was pale and colourless. Her hair, which her sisters had once praised as her crowning glory, was matted and without any shine. As she unbuttoned her nightgown, she couldn’t help but swallow thickly at her sharply protruding collar bones and ribcage. She looked sickly and drawn.</p><p>Shaking herself, she cast the mirror aside and got dressed in the simple cotton dress that was left for her by the bed. She made a mental note to thank Cowboy’s lady friend if she ever got the chance to meet her.</p><p>Hannah braided her hair, pinched her cheeks in a pathetic effort to seem more life-like, and tied the apron around her waist. She held back what she thought was nothing but an whirl wind of self pity and made her way to the kitchen.</p><p>Race was busying himself searching through a drawer. Hannah heard him mutter a few curses under his breath.</p><p>“You shouldn’t use the Lord’s name in vain, Racetrack,” Hannah snickered.</p><p>Race jolted upright. “Jesus!” He shook himself. “I mean—sorry, you’s jus’ creeped up on me is all. I’s tryin’ ta find a recipe or somethin’.”</p><p>Hannah pursed her lips in amusement. “I’ve never used a recipe.”</p><p>“Oh?”</p><p>“No,” Hannah noticed Race take in her appearance and shifted nervously. “I’ve seen my Ma bake different kinds of bread so often, I know them all by heart.”</p><p>“Well aren’t you’s jus’ clever,” Race grinned.</p><p>“Only sometimes,” Hannah said brightly.</p><p>Race took in her freshly braided hair and how the simple blue of the dress brought out the blue in her eyes. He couldn’t help himself. “You’s look nice,” he mumbled awkwardly.</p><p>“Pardon?”</p><p>“You’s…” he took a deep breath. “You’s look nice.”</p><p>Hannah looked down in embarrassment. “You don’t have to say that, Race.”</p><p>“Sure I’s do. It’s the truth.”</p><p>Hannah wasn’t sure how to reply. She decided that brushing Race’s compliment aside was the safest option. “We’ll need flour,” she adjusted her apron. “And vinegar and baking soda.”</p><p>Racetrack smiled at her. He didn’t really want to learn how to make pioneer style soda bread. He was just happy to see her smiling and safe.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>***</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>The soda bread was, in fact, both welcome and wonderful. Race would have over-baked it, were it not for Hannah’s expertise and helping hand. They ate in relative silence, Race only glancing up at her a few times to make sure she was actually eating and not saving food for the boys.</p><p>“You’s wanna head out an’ do some sellin’ with me?” Race asked hesitantly.</p><p>Hannah looked up from her plate. “I don’t want to bother you.”</p><p>“You’s ain’t no bother, Sweetheart. Besides, if I’s have a good day sellin’ we’s could always take in a Vaudeville after.”</p><p>“Vaudeville?”</p><p>“S’like a show,” said Race. “We’s good friends with the owner, Miss Medda.”</p><p>“I see,” Hannah looked down at her empty plate.</p><p>“We’s don’t have ta go if you’s don’t wanna.”</p><p>“Oh no, I’d be delighted!” Hannah shook herself. “I’ve just never been to a Vaudeville before.”</p><p>Race stood up from the small table. “You’s gonna love it. Da music’s great an’ we’s can get in for next ta nothin’.”</p><p>Hannah found herself smiling at Racetrack’s enthusiasm. “Don’t you want to go back to Sheepshead?”</p><p>“Easy dere Sweetheart, one vice at a time,” Race grinned. “Besides, right now I ain’t got no money for gamblin’ on horses.”</p><p>“You’re a gambling man?” Hannah regretted her words instantly.</p><p>Racetrack expression softened at her question. “Hey,” he stood next to her and offered her his hand. “I’s understand you’s not from here. You’s grew up different an’ dat’s what makes you special. Don’t feel bad, Sweetheart. You’s aloud to not like what I’s do.”</p><p>“It’s not my place to judge.”</p><p>“Dat’s valid,” Race said gently. “But dat don’t make it right. You’s aloud to be different from me. You’s aloud ta not like dat I’s gamble.”</p><p>“Why do you?” Hannah slowly looked up at him. “Gamble, I mean.”</p><p>“Well,” Race paused and helped her to her feet. “I’s pretty good at it an’ it’s a whole heap of fun.”</p><p>“I suppose that’s a good enough reason as any,” said Hannah. “And I’ll have you know, I’m not as innocent as you may think. My uncle, though we only saw him once or twice a year, taught me how to play poker. My Ma almost through a fit when she found out. I never told her that I’d payed for her Christmas present through poker winnings from my uncle.”</p><p>Racetrack beamed at this. “You’s full of surprises aren’t ya?”</p><p>“I do try.”</p><p>“So,” Race held out his hand again. “You’s wanna sell some papes?”</p><p>“I bet I can sell three today.”</p><p>“Awe, aim higher Sweetheart. I’ll spot ya for five papes.”</p><p>Hannah managed a small smile as she linked her arm around Race’s. “Thank you,” she followed him out onto the bustling streets of Manhattan.</p><p>Race sold his papers with an ease that made Hannah both amazed and intimidated. When he handed her his last five papers, he bumped her shoulder playfully and stood back.</p><p>“The floor’s all yours toots,” he took a dramatic bow.</p><p>Hannah laughed a small, bright, laugh. “Toots?”</p><p>“Yeah, ya know, it’s like a sweetheart, but different.”</p><p>“Different how?”</p><p>“Well,” Race tried to plan his next words. “S’like a term of endangerment.”</p><p>Hannah couldn’t help the chuckle that escaped her. “You mean, endearment.”</p><p>“Huh?”</p><p>“A term of endearment,” Hannah paused to shout out a headline.</p><p>“Right,” Race quirked an eyebrow as she sold a paper. “So I’s callin’ you’s somethin’ endearing.”</p><p>“I suppose so. But why?”</p><p>Race watched her sell another paper and tried to formulate an answer. “Cause,” he scratched the back on his neck. “You’s real pretty an’ I’s like spendin’ time with ya.”</p><p>Hannah practically dropped her remaining three papers in shock. “Oh gosh,” she collected herself. “As flattering as that is, Race, I hardly think it’s—well—entirely necessary.”</p><p>“You’s keep talkin’ yaself down an’ it ain’t right,” Race said with just a hint of force. “You’s are pretty an’ I ain’t being forced ta spend time with ya. It ain’t an obligation an’ it’s my choice. I’s gonna keep tellin’ you’s that till you’s understand.”</p><p>Hannah kept her eyes on Racetrack’s soft expression. She wanted to believe him. She sold her last paper in a kind of blur as Race beamed.</p><p>“All done,” she walked to his side again.</p><p>“You’s sold your first five papes,” Race smiled down at the blonde girl. “Now you’s gotta decide what to get.”</p><p>“Excuse me?”</p><p>“With your five cents. We newsies have always had dis tradition. When a newsie sells their first few papes, we tell ‘em to spend their money on somethin’ that’ll make ‘em smile. Somethin’ they ain’t never had the money to buy before,” Race explained.</p><p>Hannah cocked her head to the side, puzzled. “I should save the money. Besides, it’s your money, Race. They were your papers.”</p><p>“Dat I’s den gave to you’s.”</p><p>“Still.”</p><p>“Still, you’s need ta buy yourself somethin’,” Race said firmly. “What kinda food do you’s like?”</p><p>“Well I—“</p><p>“Chocolates? Ice cream? Candy?”</p><p>“I’m not sure it—“</p><p>“Or how ‘bout a ribbon for in your hair? Somethin’ blue ta match your eyes.”</p><p>“Well, aren’t you just the charmer,” Hannah found herself matching Racetrack’s flirtatious advances. She couldn’t help herself. As un-ladylike as she knew it was, she felt an odd sense of comfort around Race. Her natural stubborn and competitive nature was coming back.</p><p>“I’s try,” Race smiled brightly. “So what do you’s say, toots? What strikes your fancy?”</p><p>Hannah was silent for a moment. She watched people walk by, some of them eyeing them suspiciously, as if they were nothing more than street rats. Hannah tried to ignore them and met Racetrack’s expectant gaze.</p><p>“Do you know where there’s a book store?” she smiled a small smile.</p><p>Race nodded his head with enthusiasm. “Sure do! Dere’s a used book store just a few doors down.”</p><p>“Truly?”</p><p>“Truly,” Race repeated. He offered his arm to Hannah again. “Shall we?”</p><p>Jack’s advice ran wild in Race’s head as he lead Hannah over to the book store. He knew Jack had meant well, that he was protective of his brothers and advised caution for their own safety. Race knew he had to take things slow with Hannah. Take her cues and step back once in a while. But the pure joy on her face when she entered the book store made his stomach do backflips and any and all logic Jack had instilled in him went right out the window. Maybe Mush had been right, maybe he was a hopeless romantic after all.</p><p>“Race, would just <em>look</em> at this?” Hannah beamed. She positively radiated joy as she spun around the store. Even the elderly woman at the desk couldn’t help but smile at the girls’ happiness.</p><p>“I’s lookin’,” Race followed her around the store.</p><p>“Dickens and Austen and <em>oh!</em>” Hannah stopped abruptly. “Walt Whitman.”</p><p>“S’matter with him?”</p><p>“Ma strictly forbid me from reading anything by him.”</p><p>“Why’s dat?” Race took the book out from the shelf. “What kinda stuff’s dis fella writin’?”</p><p>Hannah read over his shoulder. “Poetry, mostly.”</p><p>“Poetry?” Race snickered. “How bad’s poetry gonna be?”</p><p>“I wouldn’t know…” Hannah’s voice trailed off as she read. “Oh my word.”</p><p>“Dis is the female form….” Race read out loud quietly. He skipped ahead a bit. “Hair, bosom, hips, bend of legs, negli—negliga—awe hell, what’s dat woid?”</p><p>“Negligent,” Hannah breathed. She turned away from the book, her face hot with embarrassment.</p><p>“What’s da matta with you’s?” Race put the book down. “Dat ain’t so bad. You’s should hear what some of da fellas in da bunk room’ve got ta say some nights. Put dis Whitman’s stuff ta shame.”</p><p>Hannah refused to face him. Her face still burned hot. “It’s beautiful,” she whispered, ashamed of her own words. They were true, though. “The poetry is beautiful. I wish I could read it without feeling shame.”</p><p>Race approached her slowly. He put a soft hand on her shoulder. “Hey,” he whispered back. “Ain’t nothin’ ta be ashamed of. You’s don’t have ta buy no Whitman book. Look,” he pointed to another row of books. “Those are all music.”</p><p>“All of them?”</p><p>“Every last one. I’s can’t read music so I’s never looked through ‘em but…” Race stopped talking as Hannah scanned the spines of the books. Her eyes lit up at a particular spot.</p><p>“The Pirates of Penzance,” she took the book out carefully. “Oh, I do love Gilbert and Sullivan. They’re so clever. I’d learned a few songs by them, though I don’t sound anything like what it should sound like.”</p><p>“Dat ain’t true,” said Race.</p><p>“You’ve never heard me.”</p><p>“Well den, maybe we’s should change dat,” Race looked at the confusing markings and words in the book. “You’s should sing somethin’ sometime.”</p><p>“Maybe,” Hannah traced the notes with her finger.</p><p>“I’s think you’s should get dis.”</p><p>“Really?”</p><p>“Really,” Race repeated and took the book from her. He walked over to the counter and placed it in front of the woman.</p><p>“Seven cents,” she eyed them suspiciously.</p><p>“Oh,” Hannah took a step back.</p><p>“We’s take it,” Race put down two extra pennies. He looked over his shoulder at Hannah and smile encouragingly. “S’alright Sweetheart. For the extra two cents you’s can sing me a song.”</p><p>“Oh—well, I—“</p><p>“I’s kiddin’, toots,” Race handed Hannah the book and bumped shoulders with her again.</p><p>“Race, I…” Hannah swallowed hard and followed Race out the store. “I can’t thank you enough.”</p><p>“Think nothin’ of it,” said Race.</p><p>Hannah fell silent as they walked. The book felt heavy in her hand.</p><p>“You’s alright?” Race saw her expression tighten.</p><p>“I’m fine.”</p><p>“Dere you’s go again with bein’ fine when ya sure as hell ain’t.”</p><p>“You have enough of your own worries, I’m sure, Racetrack. You don’t need mine as well. Besides, you’ve done too much for me already.”</p><p>“You’s don’t owe me nothin’, Sweetheart. I’s already told ya, I’s doin’ this ‘cause I wanna. Not ‘cause I have ta,” Race reached his hand out to her and breathed a sigh of relief when she took it. “What’s the matter?”</p><p>Hannah shook her head weakly. “I must seem so ungrateful. You help me buy this book, let me sell your papers, find me a place to sleep and eat and—“</p><p>“Shhh, Sweetheart, c’mere,” Race pulled her into the lodging house with him. Thankfully none of the boys were around. “Breath with me, Sweetheart,” he ran his hands up and down her arms lightly.</p><p>“What you must—“ Hannah gasped. “Think of me.”</p><p>“I’s thinkin’ nothin’ but how brave an’ strong you’s are.”</p><p>“Oh Racetrack,” Hannah bowed her head in shame. “I should never have bought this book. I should be saving my money to go back home. I have to tell Ma and Pa about Julia and I refuse to tell them by sending a letter.”</p><p>Race’s eyes widened in realization. He’d pushed her to spend her money. He hadn’t thought things through properly. He’d made a mess of things and it was all because of his damn impulsive nature.</p><p>“I’m sorry,” Race slowly placed a finger under Hannah’s chin to lift her head. She still wasn’t crying. “I’s shoulda neva told ya to spend dat money.”</p><p>“No, no!” Hannah reached for his hand and gave it a squeeze. “You didn’t do anything wrong. I should have known better.”</p><p>“I’s shoulda known too.”</p><p>“No, Race. I won’t let you turn this into your fault. It’s not.”</p><p>“I’s help ya get the money. For a funeral an’ ta get ya home to your parents.”</p><p>“What?”</p><p>“I’s got a hot tip on a horse for tomorrow an’ maybe, if lady luck is on my side, an’ I’s have a good day sellin’, we’s go see dem nuns again an’ see ‘bout fixing somethin’ up for ya sista. We’s make dis right, okay? I’s promise you,” Race couldn’t help himself. He brushed a stray piece of Hannah’s blonde hair behind her ear. She followed his gesture with her eyes and flushed.</p><p>“You need your money for your food and board,” She breathed.</p><p>“Klopmann’ll give me a break dis one time. I’s always on time.”</p><p>“You would do that for me?”</p><p>Race cracked a grin. “Anythin’ for you, toots.”</p><p>“You’re rediculous,” Hannah let out a breathy laugh.</p><p>“I’s been called worse.”</p><p>Hannah looked back up at him. “I’ll pay you back,” she said firmly. “Every cent that I can’t come up with myself.”</p><p>“You’s don’t need ta do that. You’s jus’ sing me a few songs an’ show me how to make your Ma’s bread.”</p><p>“That I can do,” said Hannah. She smiled up at him, her breathing having returned to normal, and made her way to the back kitchen.</p><p>Race’s smile soon fell, however, because the reality of the situation came crashing down on his shoulders. He didn’t have a hot tip. He didn’t even have ten cents to his name. He could only think of one way of <em>maybe</em> getting enough money for a funeral and train tickets to Wisconsin. He tried to think of any other option, short of selling his uncle’s pocket watch, but came up empty. Tomorrow, he’d have to go to Brooklyn.</p>
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<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Key</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>holy smokes it's me again- wild. alright, so this chapter is quite something so I apologize in advance for the feels. <br/>Also, slight trigger warning: there is a scene involving physical abuse, but it's nothing too graphic or frightening. Just mind your triggers and all that. <br/>Let me know what you think!!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>In theory, it was a pretty good plan. Race watched Hannah make bread the next morning after having spent the night by her bed again. He watched her smile as she explained how to kneed the dough. He smiled back when she told a story about her almost burning a cake she’d made for her sisters’ birthday. In theory, he was just supposed to slip away after breakfast and nobody would be the wiser. Only, he forgot that Hannah knew how to play poker and poker players, even one’s that were just starting out, knew how to read people. He should have known that Hannah would follow him.</p><p>And follow him, she did.</p><p>She followed him through Manhattan and past Sheepshead, until he reached the docks. Hannah’s plan wasn’t nearly as thought out as Racetrack’s. She’d just intended on following him. She hadn’t planned for any obstacles.</p><p>Racetrack hardly made eye contact with the first Brooklyn newsie, when one, Target, smirked down at him.</p><p>“Got yourself a shadow there, huh?”</p><p>“What?” Race looked over his shoulder.</p><p>“Ova dere,” Target pointed towards where Hannah hid behind a couple of crates.</p><p>“What the—“ Race stopped short as Target knocked one of the crates over</p><p>“Your goil’s been followin’ ya.”</p><p>“Sweetheart?” Race rushed forward. “What’re you’s doin’ here?”</p><p>Hannah bowed her head. “I didn’t want you getting into any trouble on my account.”</p><p>“Jesus, Sweetheart. Followin’ me ta Brooklyn,” Race pinched the bridge of his nose. “You’s coulda been hoit.”</p><p>“But I wasn’t.”</p><p>“She’s clever, I’ll give you’s that,” Target fiddled with the slingshot in his hand. “You’s gonna tell me why you’s here, Higgins?”</p><p>Race swallowed thickly. He couldn’t send Hannah back to the lodging house alone. “I’s here ta see Spot.”</p><p>“Ah,” Target looked over his shoulder at the boarding house. “He’s a bit…busy at the moment.”</p><p>“Tell ‘em I’s wait ten minutes. Dat should give him enough time to make himself decent and get the goil home.”</p><p>“If he heard da way you’s talkin’ bout him…” Target’s eyes narrowed.</p><p>“He knows how I’s talk about him. Tell ‘em I’s waitin’ an’ tell him I don’t care if da goil’s a God damn princess, he’ll see her again tonight,” said Race, leaving a little room for negotiation as possible.</p><p>“He’s gonna soak ya.”</p><p>“Nah,” Race waved off Target’s warning. “He might take a swing at you’s for stoppin’ him, but he’ll jus’ be annoyed with me.”</p><p>Target muttered a string of a curses under his breath, but lead the pair into the Brooklyn lodging house. It wasn’t as pleasant as the Manhattan house, Hannah noted. It was damp and the windows leaked cold air— probably from their proximity to the water.</p><p>True to Race’s word, Hannah heard a scuffle from a few doors down. She suspected Target had, in fact, either avoided or had gotten punched. A very pretty, brunette girl left the room first, her lip rouge smeared slightly, but dress still presentable. Spot followed soon after.</p><p>His eyes narrowed when he saw them.</p><p>“What do you’s want,” he snapped.</p><p>“We need ta talk,” Race’s jaw was tight and set.</p><p>“What about da goil?” Spot motioned to Hannah.</p><p>“She stays,” Race said evenly. “Dat a problem?”</p><p>“I’s don’t give a shit who you’s involve in your affairs. What’s your problem, Higgens? What brings ya all the way ta Brooklyn if it ain’t for a hot tip or a game of cards?”</p><p>Racetrack looked down at his warn boots and gathered himself. “I’s need da key.”</p><p>There was a heavy pause. Hannah couldn’t help but gulp as Spot threw an arm up so any newsies around bolted out of sight.</p><p>“What did you’s say, Higgins?” Spot hissed.</p><p>“I’s need da key,” Race said again, though this time his voice came with a slight tremble.</p><p>Spot took a few steps towards the pair. “Eight years…” he pulled a necklace out from under his shirt. The key dangled dangerously. “Eight years since I’s helped ya out from dat hell hole. I’s promised you that I’s keep dis on me, for whatever God damn <em>stupid</em> reason you’s had—“</p><p>“Spot, I—“</p><p>“No!” Spot roared. “Don’t you’s <em>dare</em> interrupt me! You’s have no <em>idea</em> what kinda hell I’s went through, watchin’ you’s almost die every otha day. You’s have no <em>idea</em> what it was like, bringing you back ta life and convincing you’s ta leave! You’s don’t know what you’s looked like when we’s showed up here eight years ago. Jesus, I’s sent ya to ‘hatten so ya wouldn’t even have ta walk these streets again. And now, after all dis time, you’s come here an’ want ta go back.”</p><p>Race’s hands shook at his sides. Hannah, not knowing what to do, grasped one of them and squeezed it. “It’s not what you’s think,” Race said weakly.</p><p>“Oh really? ‘Cause from where I’s standin’, you’s wantin’ ta go back dere.”</p><p>“I do,” Race tried to stabilize his breathing. “But not for da reason you’s thinkin’.”</p><p>“He neva loved ya, Racetrack. Not for a second.”</p><p>Race took a deep breath through his nose. He needed a cigarette. “I know that,” he mumbled.</p><p>“I’s shoulda thrown this damn key away.”</p><p>“No!” Racetrack shouted. “I’s need money, okay? Sweetheart’s sista died an’ we’s wanna give her a funeral an’ she needs ta get home ta tell her folks an’ we’s can’t do dat without money.”</p><p>Spot watched Hannah open and close her mouth and sighed. “You’s know about dis, Sweetheart?”</p><p>“No,” Hannah shook her head. “Race, let’s go back. I don’t want you doing this. Whatever… this… is.”</p><p>“Figured,” Spot handed Race a cigarette and a box of matches. “You’s ain’t goin’.”</p><p>“I need the money.”</p><p>“You’s ain’t goin’ back dere.”</p><p>“He always had some stashed away. I’s know exactly where it is.”</p><p>“No way in hell,” Spot didn’t budge.</p><p>Race took a drag from his cigarette. “We’s made a deal, Spot. Eight years ago, we’s made a deal. You’d keep dat key on ya and I’s take off ta Manhattan.”</p><p>“We were kids back den, Higgins! You’s had no clue what you’s were promising.”</p><p>“But you’s kept your promise. You’s still got da key.”</p><p>“I’s always keep my promises,” Spot lowered his voice. “But I’s don’t rememba sayin’ anythin’ about eva givin’ it back.”</p><p>“Den why keep it?”</p><p>“‘Cause you’s told me to.”</p><p>“Well den, I’s come ta ask for it back,” said Race.</p><p>“Race don’t,” Hannah pulled on his hand slightly. “Whatever it is, don’t do it. I don’t need to go home that bad. I can write to them. I can—“</p><p>“I’s fixin’ this, Sweetheart,” Race faced Hannah for a beat. “I’s got dis all figured out.”</p><p>Spot groaned. “As touchin’ as dis is, I’s still not handin’ it ova.”</p><p>“If you’s don’t give it ta me, I’s have no choice but ta break down the door.”</p><p>“You’s a fuckin’ idiot.”</p><p>“You’s know I would,” said Race.</p><p>“Yeah…” Spot looked down at the key. “You’s an idiot enough ta do it.”</p><p>“Give it ta me.”</p><p>“Jesus Christ,” Spot hesitated. “Don’t come cryin’ ta me if you’s get beat up within an inch of your life.”</p><p>“He probably won’t even recognize me.”</p><p>“Let’s hope,” Spot slowly took his necklace off. He leaned forward and put both of his hands on Race’s shoulders. He spoke so low that Hannah could hardly hear him. “You’s an idiot, Racetrack Higgens. You’s rememba what I’s did for you’s. You’s remember what we’s ran away from. If I’s don’t hear from my boidies ‘bout you’s in an hour from now, I’s sending out a search party an’ I’s don’t care who finds out.”</p><p>Race nodded in response. “Thank you.”</p><p>“Yeah, yeah,” Spot thrust the key at Race. “Get outta here.”</p><p>Race nodded at Spot one last time and pulled Hannah out of the lodging house with him.</p><p>“Race, what’s going on?” Hannah ran to keep with him. “Where are we going?”</p><p>“You’s don’t need ta know that.”</p><p>“Considering Spot looked like you were going to go face man eating lion, I think I do need to know.”</p><p>“I’ll be fine,” Race sped on.</p><p>“Who hurt you? Where are you going back to?”</p><p>“Leave it, Sweetheart.”</p><p>“I will not!” Hannah cried exasperated. “I won’t let you hurt yourself for me!”</p><p>Race stopped in the middle of the street and faced her. “Listen, Sweetheart. Dis’ll only take a minute. I’s know where ta look an’ what ta do. I’s jus’ need ya ta stay right here.”</p><p>“Here?” Hannah looked around the street.</p><p>“Spot’s got two fellas followin’ us already. See?” He pointed towards the corner of the street where Target stood leaning against a wall. “You’s safe here.”</p><p>“I’m not worried about myself, I’m worried about you,” Hannah tried to reach for Race’s hand, but he pulled back. He couldn’t put her in danger. The less involved with him she got, the better.</p><p>“You’s ain’t convincin’ me outta dis, Sweetheart. Besides,” Racetrack’s voice trailed off to a whisper. “He owes me.”</p><p>And with that, Race took off down the street, weaving between people until he stopped in front of a dilapidated store front. He could see Hannah standing on the sidewalk, wringing her hands nervously. He gave her a nod that he knew she could hardly see and looked through the dirty shop window. He didn’t see anyone. Holding his breath, he opened the door and walked inside.</p><p>It was just as he remembered it: dark, unforgiving, cold, and devoid of anything sentimental. It had, at one time, been a celebrated tobacconist shop, but in the hands of it’s owner, it fell into disrepair and dishonesty. Race could practically still hear the shouting, feel the stinging. It lingered in the walls and screamed in his ears. He felt himself stepping backwards, the memories too much, but then he remembered his reason for being there. He knew what to do. He just had to walk ten, maybe fifteen, steps forward.</p><p>He did so slowly. Too slowly, he knew. The floorboards creaked, as they always had, and Race held his breath. Five more steps. He could see the loose floorboard. He’d just need reach forward and he could run back onto the street like nothing had happened.</p><p><em>Please</em>, he prayed to whatever God was listening to his sob story, <em>please let this work. Please don’t let—</em></p><p>Racetrack’s prayer stopped abruptly at the sound of the back storage door opening. Race pulled his hand back from the floorboard and froze in fear.</p><p>“The hell is this?”</p><p>God, that voice. He’d almost forgotten it. He’d almost cleared the voice from his memory entirely. The man even looked the same, though his hair was greyer.</p><p>“Whaddya want, street rat?” The man barked. He stepped out of the shadows and Race could hardly catch his breath. He could make a run for it, but it was useless. One look at the glint in the man’s eyes and Race knew. He’d been found.</p><p>“I’s goin’,” Race’s voice quivered. He felt like he was eight years old again. Scared out of his mind and cornered.</p><p>“Like hell,” the man took another step towards Race.</p><p>“M’sorry,” Race tried to take a step towards the door, but knocked into a coat rack.</p><p>The man laughed at this. “Still clumsy, Anthony?”</p><p>“I’s goin’,” Race tried to collect his wits. “I’s didn’t mean ta bother you’s.”</p><p>“You come back here after stealin’ from me? After everythin’ I did after your Mama died? And this is the thanks I get?”</p><p>Race trembled, knowing full well he was backing into a wall. “I’s jus’ tryin’ ta find somethin’ of Mama’s,” he tried as his back hit the wall.</p><p>“You’re a lying little son of a bitch!” The man roared, striding towards Race so he was face to face with him. “You dare showin’ your useless face here again. You always were a coward, you know that? Just like your mama. Always a dumb, lazy, coward.”</p><p>Race opened his mouth to reply, but a the sound of the front door closing stopped him.</p><p>“He is no such thing,” Hannah stood her ground. “He is good and kind and loyal and twice the man you are!”</p><p>“Sweetheart,” Race’s eyes were wide and desperate. “Sweetheart please, get outta here!”</p><p>“This your tramp then?” The man poked his walking stick at Race’s chest. Race flinched.</p><p>“Don’t you’s dare call her dat!” he shouted, finally finding his voice.</p><p>“Supposed that’s about the only kind of woman that’ll look at a poor son of a bitch like you,” the man sneered down at the newsie. “Tell me, how much did you pay for her?”</p><p>“Leave her out of this!”</p><p>“You can’t speak to him like this!” Hannah cried. She took a step towards Race, as if to shield him.</p><p>Race’s eyes widened even further. He’d been frightened before, but with Hannah thrown into the situation, he was terrified.</p><p>“Get outta here, Sweetheart!” He took hold of her arm and tried to maneuver her towards the door again.</p><p>“I will not leave you here,” Hannah remained standing by his side.</p><p>“This is…touching,” the old drunk stumbled towards Race so he could smell the whiskey on him. He eyed Hannah up and down and Race felt sick to his stomach.</p><p>“Leave her outta this! Dis is between you an’ me. Dis has nothin’ ta do with her!”</p><p>“You stealin’ my money, Snotter?”</p><p>“Your money?” Race tried to pull Hannah behind him. “Dat ain’t your money.”</p><p>“Shut your mouth.”</p><p>“Do whatever you’s want ta me, jus’ leave her outta this.”</p><p>“You seem to—“ the man poked Race in the chest with his walking stick. “Care about this Star-Gazer, huh?”</p><p>Race flinched as the man raised the stick up to his chin. “Don’t call her dat.”</p><p>The drunk snickered at this. “Tell me, boy, you having any…horizontal refreshment?”</p><p>“Dry up, Paul.”</p><p>The man lowered his stick. Race felt Hannah relax behind him, but he tensed, knowing what was coming. He dodged the first blow, but the second, the second that was clearly aimed at Hannah came crashing down on Race’s shoulder instead.</p><p>He heard Hannah scream as she narrowly missed a blow.</p><p>“Sweetheart!” Race pushed her aside. “Get outta here! Go!”</p><p>“I’m not leaving you!” Hannah cried back. Her eyes darted around the room for anything she could use to ward off the drunk.</p><p>“Sweetheart, <em>please!”</em> Race begged. Paul kicked him down and inflicted two cracking blows to his chest. Hannah ran forward, fully aware of her choice and what the result would be, and threw herself on top of Race.</p><p>“Stop!” She cried.</p><p>“Like hell!” Paul raised his walking stick again. “The thief owes me!”</p><p>And while Paul’s primary target had been Race, the girl he so obviously cared about, became an added bonus. He left Hannah no time to reply before he let the stick fall on her arm and then her back. Race, hearing Hannah’s cry, pushed her off himself and stood shakily.</p><p>“Go!” He yelled at Hannah. She too, stood on shaky legs.</p><p>“No!”</p><p>Race avoided another blow by a millimetre.</p><p>“Go! I’s fine! Get outta here!” Race let out a muffled cry when the next blow hit his ribs.</p><p>“But Race—“</p><p>“GO!”</p><p>Hannah blinked rapidly. Race would surly die by the hands of this man if she didn’t get help. She had to go, but not for her own safety. For Race’s. She ran out the front door, her back and arm throbbing. She could only think of one thing to do. Thankfully the docks were close and by the time she got there, help was already taking action. She saw the birdies (Target and Nugget) pocketing shooting rocks.</p><p>“Spot!” She screamed and threw open the door to the lodging house.</p><p>The leader was already reading himself. He took one look at Hannah and swore. “Shit,” he adjusted something in his pocket and reached for his cane.</p><p>“You have to help him!”</p><p>“I’s comin’, I’s comin’, hold ya horses.”</p><p>“Spot, <em>please</em>, he’s beating him!”</p><p>“You’s don’t think I’s know dat?” Spot said sharply. He couldn’t lose his cool. Not when he had to keep calm for the girl. Not when his oldest friend needed him.</p><p>Hannah paced around the room as Spot pocketed the last of his favourite shooters. He muttered a few more curses under his breath and pulled Hannah out the door with him.</p><p>“Please tell me he’ll be alright!” Hannah cried. They ran at top speed away from the docks again. A few of Spot’s best newsies trailed behind.</p><p>“He’s tough,” Spot answered. “He’s done this dance before.”</p><p>“But that man—“ Hannah panted. “Who is he?”</p><p>“Not my story ta tell, Sweetheart.”</p><p>A thought crossed Hannah’s mind as they got closer to the shop again. “Spot?”</p><p>“Now’s not da best time for conversation.”</p><p>“Please tell me that man isn’t Racetrack’s father.”</p><p>Spot stopped a few houses short of the tobacconist. “He is,” Spot handed Hannah his slingshot and a his best shooters. “You’s stay here. Don’t move until I’s say it’s okay, got it?”</p><p>“Yes,” Hannah’s voice shook with emotion. Spot simply nodded stiffly and lead his newsies into the store. </p><p> </p><p> </p>
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<a name="section0008"><h2>8. Rescue</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>holy moly I actually am really digging this chapter so I hope y'all like it too!!<br/>I'm also really getting into the character development of Spot... kinda liking the direction I'm taking with that.<br/>Please leave a comment or something- any feedback is so appreciated and awesome :)</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Hannah felt like she couldn’t breath. Her chest felt tight, her corset even tighter, and listening to Spot Conlon was the furthest thing from her mind. Standing only a few feet away from where Racetrack, the boy who had risked his life to repair her own, was fighting for his life. Growing up on a farm, Hannah knew the pain and heartbreak of a house filled with abuse, all too well. She didn’t know it personally for her parents, though lacking in empathy, were never abusive. At least not physically. But rural communities, cut off from authorities and law, were rife with abusive households. She knew of a girl who came to school with bruises to match her mother’s and neither Hannah nor her family had known what to do to help.</p><p>But in that moment, on the streets of Brooklyn, Hannah knew what she had to do. Her feet had a mind of their own and she walked towards the store without a single care for rational thought. She ran to the store window just in time to see Spot swing his cane to Racetrack’s father’s head. The man stumbled forward and dropped to the ground with a thud that Hannah heard from outside. Then she noticed Race. He lay, unmoving, half propped up against the cash desk.</p><p>“Race!” She cried and rushed into the store.</p><p>“Jesus Christ, what did I’s tell ya, Sweetheart?” Spot’s eyes narrowed at her. He waved off the newsies that had followed him, signalling them to leave.</p><p>Hannah ignored Spot’s question. She dropped to the floor in front of Race. “Is he alright? Please say he’s alright.”</p><p>“He’s alright.”</p><p>“His breathing is shallow,” Hannah inspected him with shaking hands.</p><p>“Probably busted a rib or two.”</p><p>“How do you know that?”</p><p>Spot crouched down next to Hannah. “I’s run Brooklyn, doll face, I’s jus’ know.”</p><p>“Did you…” Hannah didn’t know how to finish her question. “Is his father…”</p><p>“I’s didn’t kill ‘em,” Spot looked over his shoulder at the man. “Jus’ knocked ‘em out real good. Shouldn’t wake up for a good couple hours.”</p><p>“Are you sure?”</p><p>“I’s run Brooklyn,” Spot repeated sharply. “We’s know how ta do these things.”</p><p>“Right,” Hannah blinked down at the shallow rising and falling of Racetrack’s chest.</p><p>“Hate ta break it to ya, Sweetheart, but he needs a bed an’ rest an’ he ain’t fit ta be goin’ back to ‘hattan.”</p><p>“I’ll see to him wherever you’ll have him.”</p><p>“You’s a doc?”</p><p>“No,” Hannah’s eyes narrowed to challenge Spot. “I grew up on a farm, thirty miles from a town that didn’t have a doctor for two years. I know how to care for people.”</p><p>Spot raised an eyebrow. “You’s full of surprises, kid.”</p><p>“We need to move him.”</p><p>“I’s got it,” Spot put one arm under Race’s back and one under his knees and lifted him with ease.</p><p>Hannah wasn’t convinced. “Spot—wait—are you sure you are—“</p><p>“Sweetheart,” Spot closed his eyes to keep his anger at bay. “You’s got no idea how many of me boys I find bloodied and bruised ‘round these parts. I’s got your fella jus’ fine.”</p><p>“I’m sorry,” said Hannah weakly. “I just need him to be alright.”</p><p>“He’ll be alright,” Spot assured her as they walked towards the door. “Hey, Sweetheart?”</p><p>“Yes?”</p><p>“You’s wanna check under dat floorboard by the counter for me?”</p><p>Hannah wanted to question Spot, but one hard look her way, changed her mind. She pulled the loose floor board open with a shaky hand. She retrieved three pennies.</p><p>“It’s not nothing,” she said, putting the floorboard back again.</p><p>Spot’s jaw clenched. “It may as well be,” he kicked the store door open with his foot. “Dis idiot jus’ got the soakin’ of his lifetime for three lousy pennies.” There was so much bitterness laced in Spot’s voice, Hannah wondered if he had in fact ever known true joy.</p><p>“He shouldn’t have done this,” Hannah followed Spot down the street and ignored the strange glances they got.</p><p>“Damn rights,” said Spot. “But he’s fond of ya so he’s gotten soft an’ will do jus’ ‘bout anythin’ for ya.”</p><p>“I wish he wouldn’t.”</p><p>“You’s try tellin’ him dat.”</p><p>“He shouldn’t be getting hurt on my account.”</p><p>Spot chucked under his breath. “A few of me boidies told me you’s workin’ in ‘Hatten now. Tell me, Sweetheart, how tired were you’s when you’s workin’ in dat kitchen?”</p><p>“It’s a job,” Hannah said firmly.</p><p>“Dat’s bullshit an’ you’s know it. You’s doin’ it ‘cause you’s care ‘bout Race an’ da boys. Ya see, Sweetheart, folks’ll do an awful lot of stupid shit for someone they’s care about.”</p><p>“I suppose your solution would be to never care about anyone,” said Hannah. She knew her words were sharp and not her place, but Lord, they were how she felt.</p><p>Instead of being angry, Spot seemed to find her words amusing. “Ain’t that simple, but it’s somethin’ like that.”</p><p>They walked in silence after that. Hannah kept her eyes fixed on Racetrack who seemed to loose more and more colour with every passing second. When they reached the Brooklyn lodging house, Race groaned and shifted in Spot’s arms.</p><p>“Racetrack?” Hannah reached for his hand that was hanging down. “Race?”</p><p>“Ya better hope he’s not comin’ to,” said Spot.</p><p>“Why?” Hannah followed Spot up the stairs to his private bunk room.</p><p>“‘Cause,” Spot slowly lay Race down on his bed. “S’betta if he’s out of it for dis. Hurts like hell.” Hannah watched Spot take a deep breath before he began taking Race’s shirt off. Hannah had to bite her lip and swallow down a wave of nausea. Race’s torso was covered in welts and long bruises. His ribs were red and swelling from blows he’d received.</p><p>“Let me,” Hannah shook herself and stood beside Spot.</p><p>“What? You’s a doc now or—“</p><p>“I think it’s mostly internal,” Hannah refused to let Spot belittle her. She ghosted her fingers over Race’s torso and took mental notes of what she felt. Growing up on a farm, she knew a thing or two about home remedies and injuries. Hannah felt his ribcage gingerly and sighed. “Nothing’s broken,” she pushed down ever so slightly, causing Race to stir.</p><p>“I’s got ‘em,” Spot held Race’s shoulders down.</p><p>“I think he bruised at least two ribs and his shoulder—“</p><p>“Is dislocated,” Spot finished quickly. “Dat much I’s got too.”</p><p>“I need to put it back into place.”</p><p>“You’s know how?”</p><p>“My sister fell off our pony last year and broke her arm and dislocated her shoulder. I set her arm and shoulder. I’m not a doctor, but believe me, you learn a thing or two about looking after yourself when you live on a farm for years without a doctor,” Hannah explained, her expression set and hard with determination. </p><p>Spot nodded and smirked up at her. “You’s could be a Brooklyn newsie, Sweetheart.”</p><p>“Because I can look after someone who’s been beaten?”</p><p>“No,” said Spot. “Because you’s got guts. I’s don’t know many goils who’d be as collected as you are right now.”</p><p>“Oh,” Hannah blinked down at Race’s face. “I just need Race to be okay.”</p><p>“He will be.”</p><p>“Hold him.”</p><p>“I’s got ‘em,” Spot watched Hannah put her hand on Race’s shoulder and tried to cover a shiver. If it had been one of his newsies, he wouldn’t have reacted, but Race? He was Spot’s childhood friend. He never thought he’d have to see Race hurt again.</p><p>“He’s going to wake up, isn’t he?”</p><p>“Dunno, kid.”</p><p>“<em>Please, God,</em>” Hannah prayed as she felt Race’s shoulder pop back into place under her hands. Race jolted, groaned loudly, and for a moment, Hannah was sure he’d awake. But he didn’t.</p><p>“Ya did it, kid. He’s gonna be okay,” Spot came around to stand by Hannah again. “How ‘bout you’s stay here with ‘em an’ I go stay with me boys?”</p><p>“Oh I couldn’t do that. This is your space and I don’t want to intrude.”</p><p>“Look Sweetheart, as much as I’s appreciate you’s not takin’ me up on the offer, you’s ain’t looked away from dis idiot in over an hour. You’s keep your pretty lil’ eyes on ‘em and let me know when he wakes up.”</p><p>Hannah blinked back tears, but she refused to cry. “Thank you,” she breathed.</p><p>“You’s feel like doin’ me a favour?” There was hint of mischief in Spot’s eyes and Hannah’s spirit lifted for a fraction of a second.</p><p>“Anything.”</p><p>“If you’s eva wise up an’ stop bein’ sweet on Race here, c’mon my way.”</p><p>Hannah flushed and bowed her head. “There is nothing between us. Racetrack doesn’t see me that way and I… it’s simply not like that.”</p><p>“Sure it ain’t,” said Spot. “Look, you’s sit with him an’ I’ll send one of me boidies ta get Jack-y-boy.”</p><p>“Thank you.”</p><p>“Yeah, yeah,” Spot waved her comment off. “It’s nothin’. Don’t you’s be gettin’ any ideas or nothin’. I’s got a reputation ta keep an’ I ain’t turnin’ soft for nobody.”</p><p>Hannah simply nodded. She stiffened though, when she heard footsteps coming up the stairs.</p><p>“Spot?” A female voice called out.</p><p>“Shit,” Spot cursed under his breath and turned around. A wavy-haired brunette in a green dress and (much to Hannah’s shock) lip rouge greeted him.</p><p>“Spot, I thought we was meetin’ tonight an’ I— oh,” the girl stopped talking when she noticed Hannah sitting next to Racetrack’s sleeping figure.</p><p>“Heya, doll-face,” said Spot. “I’s jus’ takin’ care of somethin’ real quick.”</p><p>“Who’s she?”</p><p>“Racetrack’s goil.”</p><p>“That so,” the girl made her way over to Hannah and looked her up and down. “Ain’t you a bit nice for these parts, sweetie?”</p><p>“I’m only as nice as I have to be and I am <em>not,</em>” Hannah emphasized the word. “Racetrack’s girl.”</p><p>“Why’re you sittin’ next ta him den?” The girl raised an eyebrow.</p><p>Hannah watched the steady rising and falling of Racetrack’s chest. “Because,” she took one of his limp hands in her own. “We’re there for each other.”</p><p>“Well, ain’t that just sweet. Ain’t that sweet, Spot?”</p><p>“Yeah,” Spot rolled his eyes. “Real sweet.”</p><p>“What happened to Race?”</p><p>“Nothin’,” Spot’s voice was clipped and cold. “Some fellas up n’ decided to soak ‘em.”</p><p>The girl’s expression hardened, clearly seeing right through Spot’s lie. “Sure,” she went to pour herself a whiskey from the small liquor cabinet Spot had for himself. “You drink, farmer-girl?”</p><p>Hannah tried to hide to shock. “I—no, I don’t. Thank you for offering.”</p><p>“I’m shocked,” the girl snickered and downed her drink in a single gulp. “You got a name?”</p><p>“The boys, they’ve called me Sweetheart,” said Hannah.</p><p>“Accurate,” the girl ignored Spot’s sigh of annoyance. “I’m Diamond.”</p><p>“Yeah, yeah, okay, glad you’s gettin’ ta know each otha,” Spot came between the two girls. “Sweetheart, you’s stay with Race and for God’s sake, don’t do anythin’ stupid. Diamond, quit bein’ so damn antsy. I’s give ya plenty of attention latah.”</p><p>“You better,” Diamond leaned up and placed a long kiss on his lips before pulling back to whisper. “Or else you ain’t gettin’ nothin’ from me tonigh’.”</p><p>“I’ll keep that in mind,” Spot gave her a light peck and led her back down the stairs, leaving Hannah and Race behind.</p><p> </p><p> </p>
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<a name="section0009"><h2>9. Brooklyn</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Heyyyyy I'm back and I hope ya'll don't mind a small dose of fluff in this one.<br/>Let me know what ya think! I love reading feedback and thoughts :)</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Hannah wasn’t sure if Spot had been gone for ten minutes or four hours, all she knew was when Race groaned and shifted on the bunk, time didn’t have meaning.</p><p>“Race?” She kept one hand in his own and the other stroking his forehead soothingly.</p><p>“S’matta?” Race slurred.</p><p>“You’re alright,” Hannah whispered. “I’m alright. Everything’s going to be alright.”</p><p>“You’s…” Race’s vision cleared slightly as the memories came flooding back. “He hurt ya.”</p><p>Hannah closed her eyes in an attempt to process Race’s selflessness. “Don’t you worry about me, Race. I’m fine.”</p><p>“I’s saw ‘em hit ya.”</p><p>“It was nothing, Race, please.”</p><p>“I’s need ta see it,” Race tried to reach for her arm. “I’s need ta see if he hurt ya.”</p><p>Not thinking straight, Hannah decided to appease him and pulled back the sleeve of her dress. An angry purple bruise greeted her and she swallowed hard. “See?” She pulled her arm back, hoping Race hadn’t seen. “I told you it’s nothing.”</p><p>“He did that,” Race closed his eyes. “Dat low-life asshole did that to you’s an’ it’s all ‘cause of me.”</p><p>“No!” Hannah exclaimed.</p><p>“None a’ dis woulda happened if I’s—“ Race stopped, the pain in his ribs causing him to flinch. “I shoulda neva—“</p><p>“Shhh,” Hannah shushed him and subconsciously ran a hand through his hair. “I’d be dead on the streets if you hadn’t taken me in. None of this is your fault.”</p><p>“Sweetheart, I’s…” Race took in a painful breath. “I’s jus’ real sorry.”</p><p>“Please don’t be,” said Hannah. “You don’t deserve any of this. You’re a good man, Racetrack, and you deserve a good life and good people around you. Don’t blame yourself for things that simply aren’t your fault.”</p><p>“What the goil said.”</p><p>Race’s head whipped in the direction of where Spot materialized by the top of the stairs.</p><p>“Spot,” Hannah breathed.</p><p>“Yeah, hi,” he remained emotionless. “I’s thought I’s told ya to tell me when he wakes up?”</p><p>“He only just did.”</p><p>“Fine,” Spot strode over to Hannah’s side. “I see ya lucked out again, Race?”</p><p>“Suppose,” Race tried to prop himself up onto his elbows, but Hannah shushed him and forced him down again.</p><p>Spot refused to look at him. He tossed three pennies at the foot of the bed and ran a hand through his hair. “Dere’s three cents for ya trouble. Hope it was worth it.”</p><p>“Spot, I—“</p><p>“Don’t wanna hear it, Race. You’s wanted ta go back dere so bad? I’s an idiot an’ I let ya. I’s shoulda neva let ya pull a stunt like dat. He coulda killed ya, ya know? An’ den it woulda been my job ta go tell Jack-y-boy ‘bout it.”</p><p>“I’s fine, Spot.”</p><p>“Two bruised ribs an’ a dislocated shoulder ain’t fine, Race.”</p><p>“Please,” Race tried to get his attention. “Don’t tell Jack.”</p><p>“Already did, wise-guy,” said Spot bitterly.</p><p>Race sighed and flinched as he tried to raise his hand to run it over his face. “Jack’s gonna do nothin’ but worry now.”</p><p>“So he should,” Spot replied. “Maybe he should read ya the riot act for once. Maybe he should tell his newsies to get smart. Maybe den they wouldn’t be goin’ ta get soaked by their old man.”</p><p>“Spot,” Hannah said sharply, causing Spot to looked over his shoulder at her. “What Racetrack needs right now is support and understanding and for goodness sake, maybe just a <em>little</em> bit of compassion. It wouldn’t kill you to be kind.”</p><p>“Sweetheart, don’t,” Race warned in a low voice.</p><p>Spot’s eyes narrowed at Hannah. “You’s gotta big mouth, don’t cha?”</p><p>“She didn’t mean anything by it, Spot,” Race tried to interject.</p><p>“I ain’t talkin’ to you,” Spot kept his eyes on Hannah. “I’s say it again, you’s would do well in Brooklyn, Sweetheart.”</p><p>“I’m fine in Manhattan,” Hannah said firmly. “With Race.”</p><p>Race couldn’t help but flush with pride at Hannah’s words.</p><p>“T’anks, Sweetheart,” Race reached for her hand and gave it a light squeeze.</p><p>“Jesus, I’s gonna be sick,” Spot made a face. “Look, I’s told Jacky-boy what happened. He said he’d be by tomorrow mornin’ ta take ya home, ‘cause you’s in no shape ta go anywhere tonight. So the two a’ you stay here tonight.”</p><p>Hannah didn’t respond right away. She watched for Racetrack’s facial muscles to relax; for him to smile weakly at her, before she turned her body to face Spot again.</p><p>“Thank you,” she looked up at the Brooklyn leader.</p><p>Spot waved off her gratitude and walked over to his small liquor cabinet. He tossed a bottle of something onto the bed, but kept his back to the pair.</p><p>“S’that?” Race leaned forward to inspect the bottle.</p><p>“Whiskey,” said Spot. “Cheap an’ tastes like piss, but it’ll dull the pain.”</p><p>“T’anks.”</p><p>“You’re a damn idiot, Higgins.”</p><p>“M’sorry, Spot,” Race hissed as he tried to shift in the cot.</p><p>Spot remained still with his back to them. For a moment, he didn’t say anything and Hannah returned her attention to Race and stroked his brow again. Race felt momentary contentment, until Spot opened the top drawer to his dresser so quickly and suddenly, it made both Hannah and Race jump.</p><p>“I’s can’t believe I’m doin’ dis,” Spot muttered under his breath. He rummaged around in the drawer for a second. “Dis is all I’s got ta give ya,” he turned around and tossed a small bag of coins at Hannah.</p><p>“Spot, I couldn’t—“</p><p>“Jus’ take it an’ shut up.”</p><p>“Spot, no!” This time it was Race who raised his voice. “I’s can get da money.”</p><p>“It’s five dollars. I’m sure da sistas at dat church’ll do somethin’ for five dollars,” Spot ignored his friend.</p><p>“Spot, I’s can’t take dis from ya.”</p><p>“Take it an’ I’s don’t wanna eva deal with your bullshit again, okay? Dat key is gone an’ dat part of your life is ova. I’s don’t wanna hear about no gamblin’ debts. In fact, after tomorrow, I’s don’t even want ta see ya for a good long time. Ya understand?”</p><p>Race fiddled with the bag of coins. “Yeah, I’s understand.”</p><p>“Good,” Spot slowly turned to finally look at Race. “Jesus, I’s didn’t think I’d eva</p><p>see ya like dis again.”</p><p>“I’s really sorry Spot,” said Race earnestly.</p><p>“I know you’s are,” said Spot. “Get some rest an’ for God’s sake, stay outta trouble.”</p><p>Race nodded in response. Hannah waited until Spot had gone down the stairs again, before she followed him.</p><p>“Spot?” She called out to him.</p><p>He turned around, his expression oddly tired and worn. “Yeah?”</p><p>“Thank you.”</p><p>“S’nothin’.”</p><p>“No,” Hannah looked up at him. “It’s really not. It’s a lot and I can’t thank you enough.”</p><p>Spot shrugged. “You’re a good kid, Sweetheart.”</p><p>The Brooklyn leader gave her a final nod and went to the other bunk room to join his boys.</p><p>Hannah dashed back up the stairs to find Racetrack counting the coins.</p><p>“He’s right. It’s five dollars,” he smiled up at her. “With dis an’ what Jack and I got saved, we’s can pay for your sista’s funeral. We’ll go set it up tomorrow.”</p><p>“I don’t deserve this kindness,” Hannah said quietly.</p><p>“Sure you’s do,” said Race. “Say, what do ya say we’s head out dere a little,” he pointed to the fire escape.</p><p>“You need to rest.”</p><p>“I’s rested,” Race insisted. “Besides, I’s don’t wanna drink in bed.”</p><p>Hannah hesitated, but gave in when she looked into Race’s eyes. “Fine,” she muttered. Race beamed, though he hissed involuntarily when he made to get out of the cot.</p><p>“Here,” Hannah came to his side to help him. “Lean on me.”</p><p>“I’s fine,” Race grit his teeth. “Jus’ sore, s’all.”</p><p>Hannah nodded weakly and helped him out the window with her. The view from the fire escape was lovely. Parts of the city reflected in the water and for a moment, Hannah could see why Spot took pride in being the leader of Brooklyn.</p><p>“Can I ask you something?” Hannah whispered as Race took a swig of whiskey.</p><p>“Only if I’s can ask ya somethin’ back.”</p><p>“Of course.”</p><p>“Well den, go ahead,” Race offered the bottle to Hannah. “You’s wanna try?”</p><p>Much to Racetrack’s shock, she took the bottle from him and sniffed the opening. She grimaced. “Alright,” she braced herself and took a small sip. It tasted awful and burned horribly and before she could say anything, Race burst out laughing.</p><p>“You’s should see ya face!” He took the bottle back. “Spot’s right though,” he hissed at the pain in his ribs. “It does taste like piss.”</p><p>“Does all whiskey taste like that?”</p><p>“Not the good stuff,” Race chuckled. “Dat your question?”</p><p>“No,” Hannah looked out at the shimmering water. “Was your father always like that?”</p><p>Race stiffened. He’d been expecting her to ask, but the question still affected him. “As long as I can remember,” he said slowly. “Spot’s ol’ man drank too— bust a bottle on Spot’s head once— so dat’s why he convinced me ta run away with him. My ol’ man, he always had a temper, an’ he always drank, but after my Mama died, he got worse.”</p><p>“Race,” Hannah linked her arm with his and gasped his hand. “I know you don’t want pity… but I really am sorry.”</p><p>“S’alrigh’,” Race tried to shrug it off. “I’s used to it an’ honestly, sometimes I deserved it. I’s not exactly smart or anythin’.”</p><p>“Don’t say that,” Hannah looked up at him fiercely. “You don’t deserve anything that happened to you. You’re a good man, Race. The best.”</p><p>“Whatever you’s say, Sweetheart,” Race shrugged and smiled down at her.</p><p>“Why did Spot keep the key to your father’s store?”</p><p>“‘Cause,” Race answered while throwing a pebble out onto the water. “I’s asked him too. See, Spot was da one who convinced me ta leave. He knew da fella who was runnin’ da Brooklyn newsies an’ told me he could get us in. When he sent me off ta ‘Hattan ta get away from my ol’ man, I gave him the key I had. Told him to keep it in case I’s eva needed ta go back dere. So we’s shook on it. I left for ‘Hattan an’ he kept my ol’ man’s key for me.”</p><p>“Spot was trying to protect you,” said Hannah quietly.</p><p>“Yeah,” said Race. “Dat’s two, by the way.”</p><p>“Two?”</p><p>“Questions.”</p><p>“Oh,” Hannah shifted uncomfortably. “I’m sorry.”</p><p>“I’s jus’ teasin’ ya,” Race snickered. “So, can I ask my question?”</p><p>“Of course.”</p><p>“Ya sista,” Race paused. “Not Julia, the otha one. The smart one…”</p><p>“My eldest sister Emma,” Hannah explained.</p><p>“Yeah, her. You’s didn’t get along with her, did ya?”</p><p>Hannah felt Race give her hand a light squeeze and relaxed. “No,” let out a breath she’d been holding in. “I didn’t. She was always doing everything right and good and Ma and Pa simply adored her. Always getting the best grades and doing everything to perfection. She was the one who showed me the advertisements for factory workers. Said I could finally be of use. I know I said that I’d seen the advertisement…but really, she was the one who showed it to me. I told her that I hated her…” Hannah let out a sigh. “That was the last thing I ever said to her before leaving.”</p><p>“Jesus,” Race clenched his jaw. “She sounds like a real prize.”</p><p>“To so many, she is. Especially my Ma and Pa. They even told her that they’d save enough money to pay her way through teacher’s college.”</p><p>“An’ what ‘bout you?”</p><p>“What about me?”</p><p>“What ‘bout your music? Aren’t dere schools for dat too?”</p><p>Hannah shook her head and let out a half-hearted laugh. “Even if there were, Ma and Pa would have never supported that. Teacher’s college is sensible and respectable. Emma’s education is more important than my silly fantasies.”</p><p>“Hey now,” Race looked at Hannah’s hard set expression and stoked her hand with his thumb. “Don’t you’s believe a woid of dat, okay? Your folks ain’t right n’ neither is Emma. Your music ain’t a fantasy, an’ dat sista of yours doesn’t know what she’s talkin’ about. You’s important, Sweetheart. No matta what your family would have you’s believe.”</p><p>Hannah felt her breath catch in her throat. No one had ever spoken to her in that way; so honestly and so kindly. Race looked at her as if he actually <em>cared</em>. As if she mattered.</p><p>“Why do you…” Hannah’s voice trailed off in embarrassment.</p><p>“Why do I’s what?” Race encouraged with a hint of amusement.</p><p>Hannah looked back up at the stars. “Why do you always look at me the way you do and not do anything about it?”</p><p>Racetrack shifted uncomfortably beside her. Jesus, he had not expected Hannah’s words at all. “Well,” Race paused. “You’s neva been kissed before.”</p><p>“What a thing to presume!” Hannah whipped her head back to look at Race.</p><p>He grinned. “You’s protestin’ ain’t helpin’ ya case.”</p><p>“And how would you know? I could have had plenty of callers before my arrival here.”</p><p>“Sure.”</p><p>“I could have been courted.”</p><p>“Sure.”</p><p>“You don’t believe me?” Hannah challenged.</p><p>Race chuckled. “Not even a little.”</p><p>“I am not an innocent farm girl.”</p><p>“Den prove it,” Race couldn’t help himself. Her eyes were too blue and her lips, they were just far too inviting and perfect for any of Jack’s previous advice to keep him away.</p><p>“Excuse me?”</p><p>“Kiss me,” Race turned his body to face her completely and pointed to his lips. “Plant one right here.”</p><p>“That’s… not proper,” Hannah found herself saying despite her bravery.</p><p>“What, kissin’?”</p><p>“No,” Hannah replied softly. “Me kissing you.”</p><p>Race chuckled again. “So you’s sayin’ dat me kissin’ you would be jus’ fine but, you kissin’ me would be a sin?”</p><p>“I mean…”</p><p>“Yeah?”</p><p>“I’ll do it,” Hannah took in a deep breath. She had to prove herself.</p><p>Race’s face froze in shock. He watched Hannah lean in, watched her gulp and felt her shaky breath fan against his face. He so wanted to kiss Hannah, but the closer she got, the more he realized it wasn’t right.</p><p>“Hey,” he placed a careful hand on her cheek. “You’s don’t need ta do dis.”</p><p>“Yes I do,” Hannah breathed.</p><p>“Not like dis, you’s don’t.”</p><p>“I can do this.”</p><p>“Sweetheart,” Race caressed her cheek with his thumb. He felt her shiver and it made his heart swell. If he was going to kiss Hannah, he would do it right and properly. “You’s don’t need ta prove anythin’. Not like dis.”</p><p>“But you said…”</p><p>“I’s know what I said,” Race looked into her eyes. “Can I kiss ya?”</p><p>“What?”</p><p>“I’s wanna do right by you’s, Sweetheart. I’s want dis to be right.”</p><p>“It is,” Hannah whispered.</p><p>Race simply nodded and cupped her face with both of his hands. He silently cursed the grime on them before looking her in the eyes.</p><p>“Can I kiss ya?” He asked again.</p><p>And when Hannah nodded, hardly managing a breathy “yes”, Race allowed his lips to brush against hers.</p><p>God, it was like fireworks and hot chocolate and whiskey and the horse races all at once. It was the best damn thing ever and in that moment, Race knew he would move heaven and hell to keep Hannah there next to him. Despite being chapped from the chilly November air, Hannah’s lips were warm and soft and Race felt like the king of New York all over again. Nothing else mattered but him and her and oh wow, he felt Hannah kiss him back and his stomach did a summersault. Hannah didn’t know how long it lasted, but all too soon, she felt Race give her a final kiss as he pulled back and let his hand rest on her shoulders.</p><p>“How’s dat for a foist kiss?” He tried to suppress the shudder that went through his body when Hannah took her hand out of his hair.</p><p>“It was…” Hannah looked up and into Race’s eyes again. “Wonderful.”</p><p>“Dat so?”</p><p>“Truly,” Hannah flushed. “How was it for you?”</p><p>Race grinned from ear to ear. “Kinda da best thing ever.”</p><p>“But you’ve… kissed girls before, haven’t you?”</p><p>“Once or twice,” Race put a reassuring hand on her arm. “But they’s don’t hold a candle to you’s.”</p><p>“That so?” Hannah tried to mask her insecurity with slight smirk.</p><p>“Truly,” Race repeated her previous answer and placed a kiss to her forehead. “You’s da only goil for me, Sweetheart. No otha goil comes close.”</p>
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<a name="section0010"><h2>10. Funeral</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>hello yes hi there, it is me and I am back with another chaotic chapter. <br/>I legit can't believe y'all are actually reading this so thanks so much!! Really! Please let me know what you think and all that. Feedback is so awesome and makes my heart sing.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Race awoke to arguing from the floor below them. Hannah sat beside him on the cot and stroked his hand gently.</p><p>“Jack just got here.”</p><p>“Shit,” Race cursed under his breath. “So dat’s the racket.”</p><p>“I don’t know why they’re so—“</p><p>“WHERE IS HE, CONLON?” Jack’s voice boomed from below them.</p><p>“Don’t you’s yell at me, Jacky-boy. I’s ain’t in da mood for bullshit!”</p><p>“You’s got one of me brothas up dere and I’s wanna see ‘em!”</p><p>“Would you’s shut up for one damn minute?” Spot kept his voice low, though Hannah and Race could still hear him.</p><p>“Not until I see Race!” Jack cried.</p><p>“You’s see ‘em when I’s say so, Kelly. We’s need ta talk business foist.”</p><p>“Business? You’s tellin’ me dere’s somethin’ more important than one of me best boys bein’ soaked so bad he couldn’t come home?”</p><p>“Yeah!” Race heard Spot hit something with his cain and flinched. “Da Bronx—“</p><p>“I don’t give a damn about da Bronx!” Jack exclaimed.</p><p>“Shut your fuckin’ mouth, Kelly! If you’s knew how to run your newsies— if you’s told ya boys ta get smart— they wouldn’t get soaked doin’ stupid shit they gots no business doin’.”</p><p>“Get outta my way!”</p><p>“Jack…” Race heard footsteps up the stairs and sunk further into the blankets.</p><p>“RACE?” Jack shouted up the stairs as he took two at a time. “Race? Where the hell are you’s?”</p><p>“Jesus Christ, stop yellin’ around da place,” Spot followed after him. “He’s in my bunk room.”</p><p>“Shit, Race?” Jack through the door to Spot’s room open. “RACE!”</p><p>Hannah tried to sooth Race’s involuntary flinches as both Jack and Spot approached them.</p><p>“Heya,” Race looked down at the blankets.</p><p>“What happened?” Jack whipped around to face Spot. “WHAT THE HELL HAPPENED?”</p><p>Spot glared at Jack. “Stop yelling.”</p><p>“What?”</p><p>“Stop fuckin’ yelling,” Spot said evenly. “He don’t like yellin’. You’s scarin’ him.”</p><p>Jack blinked rapidly for a moment before turning to face Race again. “Jesus,” he noticed his friend’s shaky breaths. “I’s sorry, Race. Shit, I’s so sorry.”</p><p>“S’arigh’ Jack,” Race managed a slight smile.</p><p>“Try an’ control your emotions jus’ a little, Jacky-boy,” said Spot.</p><p>Jack took a deep breath. “What happened?”</p><p>The moment seemed suspended in mid hair. Spot ran a hand through his hair and lit himself another cigarette. Jack hand ghosted over Race’s shoulder that had been beaten out of place not twenty-four hours before. Hannah kept her eyes focussed on Race and smiled at him comfortingly. It took a few beats for Race to gather himself. Finally, he looked up at Jack.</p><p>“I’s went back home,” he said.</p><p>“Home?” Jack looked at Spot and then back to Racetrack. “What do ya mean, home?”</p><p>“I mean… I’s went ta my fatha’s shop.”</p><p>Jack instantly kneeled beside the cot to get a better look at Race. “What am I gonna do with ya, pal?” he examined some of the bruises. “Why’d ya go doin’ somethin’ like that, huh?”</p><p>“I’s needed the money. For da funeral.”</p><p>“I’s coulda helped ya with dat. You’s know I’s always dere for ya, right? All you’s had ta do is ask.”</p><p>“It’s almost ten dollars, Jack, I’s couldn’t ask ya for dat. Not afta you’s paid my debts twice.”</p><p>“Race,” Jack put a comforting hand on his shoulder. “I’s don’t care how many times I’s help ya. You’s me brotha an’ we’s look out for eachotha.” He cast Spot a stormy glance. “Why’d you’s let ‘em go?”</p><p>“Excuse me?” Spot nearly choked on his cigarette. “Oh I’s sorry, I’s didn’t know I’s his babysitter. Dat’s your job.”</p><p>“You gave me your woid…”</p><p>“You’s the one who let ‘em traipse ‘round Sheepshead all da time. You’s da one lettin’ ‘em come ta Brooklyn every otha day. You’s da one not takin’ care of your boys.”</p><p>“Jack didn’t do anything wrong,” Race defended his best friend. “If Jack hadn’t have let me go a bit, I’s woulda jus’ run away an’ done it anyway.”</p><p>“Jesus Christ,” Spot took a long drag on his cigarette. “Don’t put this shit on me, Jacky-boy. I’s got enough ta worry about.”</p><p>There was another heavy pause. Everyone seemed to need a breather.</p><p>“You’s okay ta walk?” Jack watched Race’s expression carefully.</p><p>“Yeah, yeah,” Racetrack propped himself up onto his elbows with a clenched jaw. He ached and hurt all over, but he wasn’t about to lay that on Jack. Not when he was scared enough already. Not when Spot obviously had important business that he had to lay on Jack sooner rather than later. Jack didn’t need to know just how much pain Race was in.</p><p>Jack shook his head in defeat. Sure, Race played poker, but Jack could read his best friend in a heartbeat. He knew how good he was at hiding pain.</p><p>“Sarah gave me money ta take a street car,” said Jack.</p><p>“I’s not takin’ your goil’s money.”</p><p>“Alright, well…” Jack looked over to Hannah for help. “You’s ever been on a street car?”</p><p>Hannah smiled in understanding. “Never,” she replied.</p><p>“How would you’s like ta take one?”</p><p>“I’d love to,” Hannah said brightly.</p><p>“Okay den,” Jack stood up. “We’s takin’ a street car. An’ it’s not ‘cause a’ you, it’s ‘cause Sweetheart here wants to take one.”</p><p>Racetrack slowly got up from the cot. “Fine,” he muttered in defeat.</p><p>Jack helped Race gain his footing, but was surprised when he was able to walk (though with a slight limp) to the stairs. Hannah seemed equally as stunned and looked at Spot with wide eyes.</p><p>“What?” The Brooklyn leader remained emotionless. “The kid’s done this dance a thousand times before.”</p><p>“It’s not right,” Hannah said.</p><p>“Course it ain’t, Sweetheart. But it’s cards we’s dealt an’ dere’s nothin’ else to it.”</p><p>“I hope…” Hannah’s voice trailed off as they followed Race down the stairs.</p><p>“You hope what?” Jack asked, but Hannah shook her head.</p><p>“It’s nothing,” she said. She linked arms with Race and walked out the door with him.</p><p>Jack turned to Spot once they reached the docks. “Thanks for lookin’ out for ‘em, Spot,” he played with his bandana nervously.</p><p>Spot shrugged dismissively. “You’s woulda done the same.”</p><p>“I’s don’t mean jus’ now,” said Jack. “I’s mean… dis whole time an’ before I’s got ‘em.”</p><p>“S’nothin’ Jacky-boy. He’s a dumb son-of-a-bitch sometimes, but he’s a good guy.”</p><p>Jack chose to ignore Spot’s attempt at a compliment. “Look, about da Bronx…”</p><p>“I’s organizin’ a meetin’ dis Saturday. Eight-o-clock at your lodging house.”</p><p>“Why not yours?”</p><p>“Yours is more neutral, you’s know dat.”</p><p>“Okay,” Jack nodded in understanding. Sure, he didn’t like the idea of Bronx, Queens, and Midtown newsies all congregating in his safe-place, but Spot was right. Manhattan had always been regarded as neutral territory.</p><p>“Take care of Race, will ya?”</p><p>“I’s always do,” Jack replied firmly.</p><p>Spot spit in his hand and extended it. “No hard feelings, Jacky-boy?”</p><p>Jack smirked down at the leader and shook his hand. “No hard feelings.”</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>***</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>Hannah was baking bread in the kitchen while Jack insisted Race rest on the torn up couch by the fire. He slept fitfully for a while, with either Jack, Hannah, Clopman, or one of the boys watching him. When he finally jolted awake, Jack had been sitting in a wooden chair not a foot away. Jack watched his friends’ eyes grow weary while he shifted to sit down on the floor by Race’s head.</p><p>“Heya, pal,” Jack said softly. “I’s sorry ‘bout shoutin’ before. I’s shoulda known betta.”</p><p>Race kept his focus on the fire, but shook his head. “S’nothin,” he mumbled.</p><p>“Look pal, we’ll get dis all sorted out, alright? I’s went to dat church you’s talkin’ ‘bout an’ with Spot’s money and what little you’s and I’s got, Sweetheart’s sistah’ll be part of dis mass they got for da kids.”</p><p>Race nodded weakly. “Dat’s good.”</p><p>“She’ll get a proper burial,” Jack clarified delicately.</p><p>“With a name?”</p><p>“Yeah, with a name and everythin’. They’s even say a few prayers for her.”</p><p>“Good,” Race turned his head to his best friend. “Thanks, Jack.”</p><p>“S’nothin’,” Jack repeated Race’s previous answer.</p><p>“Where’s Sweetheart?”</p><p>“Kitchen,” Jack noticed his best friend’s expression shift to one of concern. “I’s told her ‘bout da funeral while you’s sleepin’.”</p><p>Race picked at a bit of stuffing coming out of a cushion. “How’d she take it?”</p><p>“She feels guilty,” Jack explained. “But I’s know she’s grateful an’ relieved.”</p><p>“I wish,” Race shifted and tried to mask a hiss of discomfort. “I wish I’s could do more.”</p><p>“You’s doin’ plenty, Race.”</p><p>“No, I mean… I wish I’s hand more ta offer her.”</p><p>“You’s her friend, Race. Be her friend. You’s dere for her an’ dat’s what she needs right now. She ain’t got no family right now an’ seein’ you hurt…” Jack put another dab of Clopman’s home-made remedy ointment on Race’s forehead. “It scared her. It scared the shit outta me too. You’s can’t do something like dat again, ya hear?”</p><p>“M’sorry, Jack. I’s jus’ tryin’ ta do right by her.”</p><p>“She needs ya ta be dere. You puttin’ yourself in danger made her scared that you’s ain’t gonna be dere anymore. It made me scared dat I’s losin’ ya. An’ I can’t lose a brother like you’s, Race. I jus’ can’t.”</p><p>“I’s thought,” Race closed his eyes and took in a shaky breath. “I’s thought my father would have money.”</p><p>Jack clenched his jaw. “Dat man ain’t your father. You’s a good man, Race. An’ you’s always were a good kid. You’s are doin’ right by Sweetheart. You’s doin’ right by bein’ dere for her and lookin’ out for her. Don’t think she don’t notice dat.”</p><p>Race nodded and digested Jack’s words. “Jack?”</p><p>“Yeah?”</p><p>“I’s need ta tell you’s somethin’,” Race paused. “‘bout last night.”</p><p>“Okay,” Jack studied his friends’ expression carefully. “Dis about what happened? You’s know you’s didn’t deserve any of dat.”</p><p>“I ain’t talkin’ ‘bout what happened with my fa— with Paul. I’s talkin’ ‘bout what happened after. With Sweetheart.”</p><p>“She an’ Spot took ya back ta Brooklyn.”</p><p>“Yeah, an’ den we’s went out da fire escape ta look at da water an’ we’s got ta talkin’— it’s so easy ta talk to her, ya know?— An’ den I’s… well, she was gonna foist, but I’s told her I would.”</p><p>“Race, you’s not makin’ any sense,” Jack raised an eyebrow.</p><p>Race closed his eyes and tried to find the best words. “I’s sorta kissed her.” Race mumbled and opened his eyes again.</p><p>Jack was staring at him with wide eyes. “Sorta?”</p><p>“Okay, more den sorta. I’s really kissed her.”</p><p>“An’ by really, you mean…?”</p><p>“Really.”</p><p>“Holy moly,” Jack adjusted his cap.</p><p>“Three times, actually,” Race blushed slightly at the memory. “Foist one was me, den she kissed me, an’ den I’s gave her da last one.”</p><p>Jack chuckled slightly. “Well den,” he got up from the floor. “Was it everythin’ you’s dreamed it would be?”</p><p>“An’ den some,” Race played along. “But I’s careful. I promise, Jack.”</p><p>“I know.”</p><p>“S’just…” Race fiddled with the cushion again. “Dere’s somethin’ about her.”</p><p>“I know,” Jack repeated softly. “Bein’ with her makes ya happy.”</p><p>Race smiled at this. “It really does, Jack.”</p><p>“Dat’s real good, Race.”</p><p>“Jack?”</p><p>“Yeah?”</p><p>“Can you’s bring me my bag by my cot? An’ get Sweetheart.”</p><p>Jack smiled down at his friend. “Sure thing.”</p><p>Race waited for Jack to leave before he hoisted himself up into a sitting position. He hated being down for the count. He was all nervous energy and constant motion. He hated not being able to move properly. But Race didn’t want Hannah to worry or think he couldn’t take care of himself.</p><p>“Cowboy told me to bring this to you?” Hannah sat down next to Race gingerly. She handed him his bag of keep-sakes and personal affects.</p><p>“T’anks,” Race smiled at her. “I’s wanted ta show ya dis.”</p><p>He opened the brown cloth bag and dove right to the bottom. Carefully, he pulled out a book and handed it to Hannah.</p><p>“Was this your Ma’s?” She hesitated in taking the book from him.</p><p>“Yeah,” Race placed the book in her hands for her. “See if you’s know anythin’.”</p><p>Hannah opened the book with a feather light touch and ran her fingers along the pages. “I know some of these songs,” she stopped at the second song. “But I can only sing them in english. I don’t know how to speak Italian.”</p><p>“I’s can show ya!” Race’s eyes lit up. “Den you’s can sing ‘em proper like.”</p><p>“You can speak Italian?”</p><p>“Enough,” Race answered. “My Nona taught me afta my Mama died.”</p><p>“Oh,” Hannah looked up at Race’s dancing eyes, finally devoid of any pain. “You wouldn’t mind showing me?”</p><p>“I’d love ta.”</p><p>“Thank you,” Hannah put the book between them. “I used to sing this song with my school teacher. She taught me the melody and the English words.”</p><p>“Okay so…” Race looked down at the book.</p><p>“You don’t need to know how to read the notes, just explain the pronunciation to me.”</p><p>“Right so dat’s <em>dove…</em>dat means where,” Racetrack watched Hannah’s mouth silently form the words and swallowed thickly. She looked far too pretty when she was concentrating.</p><p>“<em>Dove</em>,” Hannah said slowly.</p><p>“Dat’s it!”</p><p>“<em>Sono,” </em>Hannah tried the next word.</p><p>Race tried to hide his amusement. “Hold ya horses,” he pointed to the word. “It’s <em>sono…</em>ya pronounce it like… say <em>open</em> for me.”</p><p>“Open.”</p><p>“Now use dat foist <em>oh</em> sound for <em>sono.”</em></p><p>
  <em> “Sono.”</em>
</p><p>“Yeah,” Race shook himself when he caught himself staring at her. “Yeah, dat’s perfect. Den you’s get… <em>I bei</em>…”</p><p>“<em>I bei.”</em></p><p>
  <em> “Momenti.”</em>
</p><p><em> “Momenti,”</em> Hannah tried slowly.</p><p>Race smiled at her. “Dat’s good! Lean inta da second part of da woid more. So it’s more…<em>momenti.”</em></p><p><em> “Momenti,” </em>Hannah repeated.</p><p>“Dat’s it! Wanna try da whole foist part?”</p><p>“Oh, I don’t know if I can,” Hannah shifted nervously.</p><p>Race flashed her an encouraging smile. “Here, I’s do it foist. <em>Dove sono i bei momenti.”</em></p><p>Hannah processed his words for a moment before trying them herself. “<em>Dove sono i bei momenti.”</em></p><p>“You’s got it,” Race couldn’t take his eyes off her. She noticed this and looked up at him.</p><p>“Did I do something wrong?”</p><p>“No!” Race assured her. “Sorry, I’s jus’… you’s distractin’.”</p><p>“Am I not saying something correctly?”</p><p>“No, no, it’s nothin’ you’s sayin’ wrong. You’s sayin’ everythin’ right. You’s jus’ cleva</p><p>An’ pretty an’ I’s t’ink dat you’s look real pretty when you’s care ‘bout somethin’ an’ are thinkin’ real hard— sorry, I’s shut up now.”</p><p>Hannah giggled.</p><p>And it was so bright and light and beautiful, Racetrack almost felt his face burst from the smile that spread across it.</p><p>“You’re quite the charmer, aren’t you?” Hannah cast him a coy side-eye.</p><p>“I’s try,” Race tucked a stray wisp of hair behind her ear.</p><p>“Race?”</p><p>“Yeah?”</p><p>“What happened last night… outside.”</p><p>“Yeah? Did you’s not want dat ta happen or did you’s not—“</p><p>Race didn’t like being cut off (a trait he acquired from being friends with Spot) but being cut off by a feather light kiss to his cheek, well, that was just fine with him.</p><p>Hannah pulled back and flushed bright pink. “I’m glad it happened.”</p><p>“Dat’s good,” Race turned his body to face her. “I’s glad too.”</p><p>He leaned forward, just as Jack came back into the room.</p><p>“Heya love boids,” he chuckled as a snickering Mush followed him in tow. “We’s smell suppa.”</p><p>“Oh no!” Hannah jumped up from the couch. “That’ll be the soup!”</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>***</p><p> </p><p>Jack forced Racetrack to stay in bed for the next day and he did so, but not without complaining and bickering about it. Race passed his time watching Hannah bake and teaching her how to pronounce Italian. By the time they left for the children’s funeral on his second day of bed rest, Hannah had learned a more than half of the Italian words to her song. It was a welcome distraction and in pronouncing the words, Racetrack’s pain vanished and Hannah’s mind strayed from the guilt she had been feeling almost continuously.</p><p>Race had been two three funerals in his life. One for his baby sister, one for his mama, and one for his Nona. All three were, despite their modesty, ingrained in his mind. He’d been six when his mother died and he remembered every detail of the funeral mass, even down to the prayer that the priest had said and the hymn sung at the burial site. It had been cold that day too.</p><p>Racetrack stood beside Hannah as the casket was lowered into the ground. She hadn’t crossed herself once, and for a moment, Race wanted to ask her if she wasn’t religious, but one look at her stony expression kept his curiosity in check. As with his mother’s funeral, the priest said a prayer and it was at that point that Race saw Hannah close her eyes. She hadn’t cried at all. It was like she was somewhere else.</p><p>“Sweetheart,” Race reached for her hand. “You’s gonna be okay.”</p><p>Hannah blinked up at him and hesitated. Her hand was hovering over his own and she wanted to drop it into place, but her Ma and eldest sisters’ voice rang in her ears. <em>Skin on skin contact without gloves isn’t proper</em>. For a moment, Hannah wondered if Racetrack knew about that particular society rule, but seeing as they’d held hands before, she doubted it. Or maybe he simply didn’t care about rules. Hannah envied his freedom. She so wanted to be free of all the rules and ideals her family had put on her shoulders. A part of her hesitated, knowing full well the church grounds were not the place for a boy and girl to be holding hands unchaperoned. But another part of her wanted nothing more than to feel his warmth and comfort. A bitter gust of November wind blew and it made up her mind.</p><p>“Thank you,” she whispered up at him and placed her hand in his.</p><p>Race smiled a small, comforting, smile. “You’s wanna get outta here?” He glanced around as they priest left and the newsies began to disperse.</p><p>“Yes.”</p><p>“Ya hungry?”</p><p>“No, thank you,” Hannah replied softly.</p><p>“Alright,” Race stroked her hand with his thumb. “They did it nice, ya know? Well, as nice as funerals can be an’ all dat. Reminded me of my Mama’s mass, actually. They said hers in latin an I’s—oh,” Race noticed Hannah’s distant expression and stopped talking. “Sorry, I’s talking too much.”</p><p>Hannah blinked rapidly and shook herself. “No, no,” she tried to smile. “You’re fine. This…was lovely. More than I could have hoped for.”</p><p>“Dat’s good,” Race didn’t know what else to say. Jack and Sarah approached the pair slowly.</p><p>“You’s holdin’ up okay, kid?” Jack looked down at Hannah.</p><p>“I’m alright.”</p><p>Jack nodded solemnly. “Dis here’s Sarah. She’s my goil.”</p><p>“You left me this dress,” Hannah fiddled with it nervously. “I cannot thank you enough.”</p><p>Sarah smiled genuinely. “It’s nothing. I was going to donate those things to the mission anyway.”</p><p>“Still…” Hannah hesitated. “I am very grateful.”</p><p>Sarah shifted awkwardly, unsure of how to proceed. In the end, she decided honesty had to serve as her best tool. “Your sister seemed like a wonderful girl,” she said gently. “You have a wonderful knack for story-telling.”</p><p>“Thank you,” said Hannah. She felt Racetrack stroking the top of her hand with his thumb and relaxed more.</p><p>Sarah took a step forward and held her arms out in an offering. “I know we don’t know each other yet, but…”</p><p>Hannah let out a soft “oh” and allowed herself to be enveloped in Sarah’s arms.</p><p>“Thank you,” she said again, her voice muffled by Sarah’s shawl.</p><p>“Oh, Sweetheart,” Sarah cooed softly. “The world will stop spinning soon. Just you see.”</p><p>“You’re too kind.”</p><p>“Not at all,” Sarah stroked Hannah’s back soothingly. “How do you feel about coming back to my family’s apartment? Jack and Race can come too. I can see if some of my other dresses fit you.”</p><p>Hannah lifted up her head and looked over to Race. “Is that okay?”</p><p>Race put his hands in his pockets and smiled. “That’s more than okay, Sweetheart.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0011"><h2>11. Meeting</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>First of all- I wanna thank y'all for reading and commenting on this! I an blown away that y'all like it and are reading it!! </p><p>So, things really get tense in this chapter. I wouldn't say it's anything triggering, but it's maybe a little more angsty? Just so you know, going in, that's it's a wee bit darker. <br/>I personally love this chapter and loved writing it :)<br/>Hope y'all enjoy and let me know what you think! Super excited for your feedback :) &lt;3 xoxo</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Race leaned against the door frame and watched Hannah bake. It was the day after the funeral and he’d slept beside her cot again. She looked tired. And though Race had first been relieved that she hadn’t woken him during the night, his optimism soon faded. The prospect of her having actually slept through the night, turned into the realization that Hannah had most likely not slept at all. She had dark circles under her eyes.</p><p>“Heya,” Race softly made his presence known. “You’s sleep alrigh’?”</p><p>Hannah nodded down at her biscuit batter. “Fine, thanks.”</p><p>“You’s coulda told me ya couldn’t sleep.”</p><p>“You have to go back to selling today,” Hannah said. Her voice was clipped and detached.</p><p>“So?”</p><p>“So,” Hannah kneaded more flour into the mixture. “You needed your sleep.”</p><p>“And you’s don’t?”</p><p>“Race, don’t,” Hannah’s voice shook slightly as she spoke. “You’ve already done too much. I don’t need you quite literally losing sleep over me.”</p><p>Race strode over to her side and put a hand over her flour covered one. “Hey, hey, Sweetheart,” he whispered and tilted her chin up with his other hand. “Whaddya say ta me stayin’ home for da morning edition? I’s can sit by your bed an’ read s’more Italian to you’s if ya like?”</p><p>“You need to work.”</p><p>“I’s can take one more morning off. Clopman’ll understand.”</p><p>“You can’t afford to stay here another day. What about your rent? What about food?”</p><p>“It’s jus’ for da mornin’, Sweetheart. I’s can sell da afternoon edition jus’ fine,” said Race.</p><p>Hannah wasn’t convinced. “I need to earn my keep too. Mr. Cloppman can’t pay me unless I do my work.”</p><p>“One mornin’ won’t make a difference.”</p><p>“One morning is five cents and five cents is one tenth of a train ticket to Wisconsin,” Hannah said, the quiver returning to her voice. Race’s hand remained on hers.</p><p>“It’s six-o-clock in da mornin’, Sweetheart. Why don’t you’s take a nap? Sleep for a spell and I’s wake ya in time for you’s ta help me sell the last of da mornin’ edition.”</p><p>Hannah contemplated this. “I really shouldn’t.”</p><p>“Yeah, ya should. You’s tired an’ you’s need ta sleep.”</p><p>“You don’t have to stay.”</p><p>“I’s stayin’,” Race stroked her hand comfortingly. “Maybe we’s can go see Miss Medda tomorrow if you’s feelin’ up ta it.”</p><p>Despite her reservations, Hannah found herself nodding and finishing the biscuits. She’d practically fallen asleep at the table, waiting for them to bake.</p><p>“Sweetheart,” Race put a gentle hand on her arm. “Let’s get ya ta bed.”</p><p>Hannah jolted awake. “But the biscuits—“</p><p>“I’s taken dem out already. C’mon…” he held his arm out for her. He slowly lead her back to the cot, passing Jack and a few of the boys along the way. Mush stopped him in the hall.</p><p>“Heya, Sweetheart. How’re ya doin’?”</p><p>Hannah tried to blink the sleep from her eyes. Race noticed this and lead her into her bunk room.</p><p>“You’s go on ahead. I’ll be right dere.”</p><p>Hannah looked over her shoulder wearily. “You can go, Race.”</p><p>“I ain’t goin’,” said Race before going back out into the hall.</p><p>“She okay?” Mush asked.</p><p>“She ain’t sleepin’.”</p><p>“I’s can see dat,” said Mush. “Poor thing. She’s really been through a lot.” </p><p>“Yeah,” Race looked down at his warn boots. “She keeps gettin’ nightmares, so I’s thinkin’ she’s afraid ta fall asleep.”</p><p>“I’s didn’t sleep for a good three days when I’s foist came here,” Mush said a little louder, in the vague hope that Sweetheart would overhear him.</p><p>“Neither did I,” said Race.</p><p>Mush noted his weary expression. “Are you’s doin’ okay?”</p><p>“I…” Race looked up from his shoes and glanced around nervously. He didn’t like it when people were concerned for him. “I’s fine.”</p><p>“Ya don’t look it.” Trust Mush to see right through his lies. Mush always cared on a level that some of the other boys glossed over.</p><p>“T’anks for da compliment.”</p><p>“Hey, I’s jus’ lookin’ out for ya, y’know? Afta what happen ta you’s de otha day an’ now with Sweetheart havin’ a hard time, I’s jus’ makin’ sure you’s okay.”</p><p>“I’s fine,” Race said again. “Once Sweetheart get’s some sleep, I’s sellin’ da afternoon edition. Thinkin’ a’ takin’ her ta see Medda tomorrow afternoon.”</p><p>“Dat’s a good idea.”</p><p>“Really?”</p><p>“Sure, Sweetheart’ll get a kick outta Medda. Ain’t she a singer too?”</p><p>“Yeah, she can read music an’ everythin’.”</p><p>“Holy smokes,” said Mush. “Hey, so, remember we’ve got Spot n’ a couple-a boys from da Bronx n’ Queens comin’ by tonight.”</p><p>Race cursed under his breath. “Shit, I’s forgot about dat.”</p><p>“Cowboy’ll want ya there.”</p><p>“I know,” Race muttered. “I’ll be dere.”</p><p>“You sure you’s okay?”</p><p>Race looked up at his friend and shrugged. “I’s okay. I’s jus’ need ta figure out a way of makin’ some extra coin for Sweetheart. Da pennies she’s gettin’ from Clopman an’ what I’s makin’ sellin’ papes ain’t enough ta get her back to Wisconsin ta see her folks.”</p><p>Mush nodded in understanding. They all knew the plight of penny pinching. “You’s can count on me ta help out. Jus’…” Mush paused and made sure nobody was nearby. Everyone was eating the fresh biscuits in the kitchen. “Promise me ya won’t go playin’ cards again.”</p><p>“Jesus Christ, Mush.”</p><p>“What?” Mush hissed. “Cowboy told me ta watch out for ya an’ I’ll neva hear da end of it if you’s start with them gamblin’ halls again. You’s could get yourself caught by the bulls.”</p><p>“Well, I ain’t gamblin’ an’ even if I did, I’s ain’t gettin’ caught,” Race said, his voice sharper than intended. He let out a long sigh. “I’s sorry, pal. I’s didn’t mean ta be like dat.”</p><p>“S’okay,” Mush patted his shoulder comfortingly. “You’s got a lot goin’ on. I’ll leave you an’ Sweetheart be.”</p><p>Racetrack nodded and swung open the door to Hannah’s room again. He looked back over his shoulder at his friend. “Hey, Mush?”</p><p>“Yeah?”</p><p>“Thanks.”</p><p>Mush smiled brightly and adjusted his cap. “S’nothin’. Tell Sweetheart I’s say hi.”</p><p>“Okay,” Race closed the door behind him.</p><p> </p><p>***</p><p> </p><p>Race sat next to Sweetheart on the fire escape as they watched newsies approached the lodge.</p><p>“Who’s that?” Sweetheart pointed down at a tall, broad-shouldered newsie who wore a long, billowing, overcoat.</p><p>“Dat’s Hook,” Race made a mental note of the three newsies following him. “He’s da leader from Queens.”</p><p>“How did he get that name?”</p><p>“He’s got a mean right hook,” Race explained. “He’s won a couple boxing rounds. Good guy ta have on your side in a brawl.”</p><p>“Is Queens dangerous?”</p><p>“Nah,” Race chuckled. “They’s jus’ sneaky and keep to themselves. They’s run a tight ship, dat’s for sure. Hook’s da kinda guy who’ll help ya, but only if he get’s somethin’ out of it. They’s look out for themselves. But I’s talked ta Hook a bunch a’ times an’ he seemed nice enough.”</p><p>“He doesn’t look very nice,” Hannah watched the newsie approach the lodge with apprehension.</p><p>“He ain’t all that bad. Looks meaner den he is,” Race said brightly.</p><p>A few blocks to the right, Hannah could see two other newsies. “Who’re they?” She pointed.</p><p>Race followed her hand and stiffened slightly. He wasn’t one to show fear, but he had been really hoping the newsie with the black vest and homburg hat wouldn’t show up.</p><p>“Dat’s Blade,” Race said in a low voice.</p><p>“Bronx?”</p><p>“Yeah,” Race answered. “An’ dat’s his right hand, Rock.”</p><p>“So Blade is the leader of the Bronx?”</p><p>“For a while now, yeah.”</p><p>Hannah watched the boys carefully. “They seem different.”</p><p>“They are.”</p><p>“In what way?”</p><p>“They’s,” Racetrack paused to gather his thoughts. “They’s not like us. Blade— he gets his hands dirty a lot. Y’know how I like ta go to da races an’ play cards?”</p><p>“Yes,” Hannah answered.</p><p>“Well, dat’s nothin’ compared ta the kinda games Blade plays. His boys run all kinds of rackets. I’s hoid about them runnin’ gamblin’ rings n’ booze smugglin’. Last year Blade fixed a boxing match Hook was sure ta win. Hook found out about it an’… well… they’s had it out. Da fight was supposed ta be skin on skin, ya know, no weapons or anythin’, but Hook told Spot dat Blade’s boys showed up with brass knuckles an’ switch blades.”</p><p>Hannah wanted to gasp, but masked her shock well. The last thing she wanted was for Racetrack to think she couldn’t handle life on the streets.</p><p>She looked over at Race and managed a grin. “So what you’re saying is, they don’t play fare.”</p><p>Race chuckled at her cheekiness. “Somethin’ like dat.”</p><p>“I wish I could join you,” Hannah allowed her curiosity to get the better of her.</p><p>“I’s gotta respect Jack on dis one, Sweetheart. If he doesn’t like you’s bein’ dere, den I’s don’t like it either.”</p><p>“I understand.”</p><p>“I’s tell ya all about it, okay?”</p><p>“Okay,” Hannah felt Race squeeze her hand. When they’d started holding hands, she had no idea. It felt natural.</p><p>“I’s gotta get down dere. Jack’s probably lookin’ for me.”</p><p>“Right,” Hannah pulled her hand back into her lap.</p><p>“Here,” Race leaned over and placed a light kiss to her cheek. “Ta tide ya ova.”</p><p>Hannah flushed and smiled up at Race. She watched him go and tried to ignore the uneasy feeling that threatened to overcome her. She trusted Race. It was just, she didn’t trust the other newsies.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>***</p><p> </p><p>They could have met at Medda’s or the local deli, but the fact that Blade had chosen a place where they wouldn’t get overheard, made Jack very cautious. His boys eyed him nervously, unsure of where they stood. Sure, the Manhattan newsies were known for being fiercely loyal, ambitious, and fair, but they weren’t known for being mean. The other boys from the other boroughs looked like they could soak all of Manhattan without raising a sweat. It was at that point, as Blade’s newsies filed in behind him, that Jack wished he’d toughened them up a little. No, the cowboy shook himself, he was proud of how he lead his boys. They weren’t mean, but they were good. They stood up for what was right and always followed through. They never backed down from a challenge. They were the ones who lead the strike and they were the ones who finished it not four months ago. And that was more than would could have been said about the Bronx or even Queens for that matter. One look at Hook’s stony expression and Jack knew the Queens leader wouldn’t do anything unless there was something in it for him. Jack was glad he’d bought his boys up differently. He glanced over at Racetrack, who stood beside him, and put a hand on his shoulder.</p><p>“You doin’ alright, Race?”</p><p>“I’s fine, Jack. Nothin’ ta worry ‘bout.”</p><p>“Okay.” Jack saw Hook walk down the hall out of the corner of his eye. “You’s stay by my side and don’t say anythin’. I’s don’t need ya gettin’ inta any trouble.”</p><p>“Who said I’s lookin’ for trouble?” Race tried to joke.</p><p>Jack rolled his eyes. Hook, with his coattails billowing behind him, entered the room.</p><p>“Cowboy,” Hook spat in his hand extended it. “S’been a while.”</p><p>Jack spat in his own hand and shook. “Sure has, Hook. How’re things lookin’ in Queens?”</p><p>“It’s da cat’s meow,” Hook leaned against the wall. “Your boys are doin’ well, I see.”</p><p>“We’s doin’ jus’ fine.”</p><p>“Dat’s good.”</p><p>“Smoke?” Jack handed Hook a cigarette.</p><p>“T’anks,” the Queens leader looked Crutchy up and down as he hobbled over. “Your leg givin’ ya trouble again, kid?”</p><p>Crutchy shrugged lightheartedly. “Nothin’ I’s can’t handle.”</p><p>“Tough kid,” Hook blew a perfect smoke ring. “If you’s need dat crutch of yours looked at, I’s know a fella who’ll fix it up for ya for next ta nothin’.”</p><p>“I’s consida dat,” Crutchy smiled.</p><p>Jack wanted to ask Hook about his next boxing match, when Blade strode in front of the Queens leader and spat in his own hand.</p><p>“Fellas,” he smirked. “Cowboy.”</p><p>Jack shook his hand. “Blade.”</p><p>“How’s it rollin’?”</p><p>“Good.”</p><p>“Not much for small talk, are ya?” Blade chuckled and adjusted his bowler hat.</p><p>Jack took a drag on his cigarette. “Ta each dere own.”</p><p>Blade simply chuckled again and motioned for his second in command, Rock, to follow him to the opposite end of the room.</p><p>Spot entered the room soon thereafter.</p><p>“Well look who decided ta join us,” Blade smirked. “If it ain’t his majesty, the <em>king</em> of Brooklyn, himself.”</p><p>Spot’s eyes narrowed at the boy. “If you’s gonna get wise with me, I’s leavin’.”</p><p>“Touchy.”</p><p>“Don’t try me, Blade. I’s ain’t in da mood,” Spot made eye contact with Race as he spoke. Race, in turn, silently mouthed what he hoped looked like <em>thank you, </em>but Spot ignored him.</p><p>“What’s got ya all woiked up dere Spot?” Jack chuckled slightly.</p><p>“Shut it, Kelly,” Spot spat. “Dis ain’t a game.”</p><p>“Jeez, sorry,” Jack backed away from the Brooklyn leader.</p><p>“Will you’s all can it?” Blade took the floor. “I’s asked Conlon here ta get us together for a reason, an’ it ain’t ta play poker.”</p><p>“Okay,” Jack gestured as to give Blade permission to continue.</p><p>Blade took in a deep breath. “I’s been hearin’ things on da streets. Little things here an’ dere. Things from da Bowery Boys an’ the Dead Rabbits.” Every newsie in the room suddenly froze at the mention of the two gangs. Blade continued with confidence. “They’s sayin’ the boys in Five Points are lookin’ for a helpin’ hand.”</p><p>Nobody spoke. Jack looked each of his brothers in the eye and subtly shook his head. He just couldn’t seem to catch Racetrack’s attention.</p><p>“What kinda helpin’ hand we’s talkin’ ‘bout here?” Spot eyed the Bronx leader suspiciously. Rock, Blade’s right hand man, was quick to answer.</p><p>“Jus’ a couple jobs,” he said with a false sense of optimism. “Nothin’ too dangerous, if dat’s what you’s worried about.”</p><p>“We’s ain’t worried ‘bout no danger,” Racetrack said firmly. Jack shot him a warning glance.</p><p>Spot seemed to also have his doubts. “If what you’s sayin’ is true an’ it’s no real trouble… den why don’t you fellas do the jobs yourself?”</p><p>“‘Cause,” Blade’s eyes narrowed at the Brooklyn leader. “We’s don’t wanna get involved with them anymore. We’s did a couple favours for dem already, but we’s warn out our welcome. Besides, how’s it your fuckin’ business why we left?”</p><p>“Since you’s too fuckin’ scared ta admit you’s got a problem, Blade.”</p><p>“You watch your mouth, Conlon. You’s ain’t the only king ‘round here,” said Blade.</p><p>Spot chuckled under his breath. “An’ here I thought we’s jus’ havin’ a friendly conversation.”</p><p>“We was,” said Rock. “Until you’s started askin’ questions.”</p><p>“Considerin’ it’s my boys’ blood you’s intend ta spill, I’s gonna ask as many question as I damn well please.”</p><p>“Fellas…” Blade put an arm between Spot and Rock. “Let’s calm down and back up to where we’s started.”</p><p>“You mean, da part when you’s came in here beggin’ fa help,” Spot rolled his eyes. “Well you’s ain’t gettin’ it. You made your bed, you’s lie in it.”</p><p>“Come on Spot,” Blade tried to reason. “We’s always helped you’s out.”</p><p>“Sure, when it was turf wars, but not dis.”</p><p>Blade swore under his breath and turned to Jack. “What do you’s say, Kelly?”</p><p>“I’s say what Spot says. I’s don’t wanna get me hands dirty with no gangs,” said Jack.</p><p>“How ‘bout you’s, Hook? You’s been awful quiet dis whole time,” said Blade.</p><p>The Queen leader laughed out loud. “Not a fuckin’ chance in hell am I doin’ your dirty woik, Blade. You’s a real son-of-a-bitch for even thinkin’ I’s consida it.”</p><p>“You’s ain’t no saint,” said Blade.</p><p>“You’s keep your problems to yourself, boy-o. I’s don’t need your fuck ups,” Hook looked the Bronx leader directly in the eyes.</p><p>“Jesus Christ,” Rock cursed. “Did I’s mention da pay’s good. I’s got ova two dollars for da last job I’s did.”</p><p>“Dat could be yours,” Blade continued to the group.</p><p>Silence fell over the room for a long time. It seemed like every newsie was holding their breath. Jack was about to relax when a voice cut through the silence.</p><p>“I’ll do it,” Racetrack stood up. “Two dollars, right?”</p><p>“Up front an’ everything,” Blade grinned. “I’s tell ‘em all ‘bout you’s. Tell ‘em I’s got a real good lead on someone betta then the likes of us.”</p><p>“Two dollars an’ I’s just have ta do one job.”</p><p>“Race,” Jack tried to interject.</p><p>“I’s got dis handled, Cowboy,” Race ignored his best friends’ plea. “Two dollars cash in my hand?”</p><p>Blade nodded confidently. “Cash in your hand.”</p><p>“So if I’s do five jobs…” Race quickly did the math. From the little Hannah had taught him, he could manage the simple problem. He could get Sweetheart back to her family. He could afford the train tickets. "Dat's ten dollars."</p><p>“Dere you go,” Rock grinned and spat into his hand. Blade followed suit. “We’s have a deal den, Racetrack Higgins?”</p><p>Race spat into his hand and shook both boys’ hands. “Yeah, we’s have a deal.”</p><p>“Pleasure doin’ business. I’ll have one of me boys arrange a meetin’ for ya.” Blade grinned and waved to the rest of the boys as he and Rock left.</p><p>Race collapsed back onto his cot.</p><p>“You’s an idiot, Race,” Spot glared down at him. “You’s got no idea what you’s just got yourself into.”</p><p>“I’s got Sweetheart outta here an’ back home,” said Race softly.</p><p>“Not even close,” Spot pinched the bridge of his nose. “You’s jus’ signed you an your goil a death sentence.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0012"><h2>12. Acquaintance</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Hey hey heyyyy it's me and I'm back with drama, baby.<br/>Things are really starting to cook now and I'm pretty excited! Not sure how this chapter turned out (still figuring out how I want  my OCs Blade and Rock to come across) but I had a blast writing it.<br/>Hope y'all like it and comment away!! I am truly so amazed that folks are reading this. Thank you SO MUCH!!!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Race approached Hannah was trepidation. She was still out on the fire escape.</p><p>“Ya didn’t need ta wait up for me,” Race joked half-heartedly.</p><p>Hannah looked over her shoulder and grinned. “Who says I was waiting for you? What if I just happened to be enjoying the view.”</p><p>“Jeez, ya really know how ta hoit a fella.”</p><p>“So much for Sweetheart,” Hannah shifted so Race could sit next to her. She noted his ridged posture and continued with caution. “How did it go?”</p><p>Race blinked out at the New York skyline. The city had always faired him well, all things considered. He had a home and a family and that was more than he could have ever dreamed of. But yet, sitting next to Hannah, and after seeing the disappointment and worry on Jack’s face at the end of the meeting, he felt like the city was cursed.</p><p>“Eh,” he tried to shrug off Hannah’s question. “Nothin’ happened. Jus’ a bunch of leaders tryin’ ta step on eachotha’s toes.”</p><p>“Oh,” Hannah tried to decipher his body language.</p><p>Race relaxed his shoulders in response. “Jus’ turf negotiations. Da boys from Queens’re always pushin’ their luck with where they’s sellin’.”</p><p>“You mean they’re going beyond their boundaries?”</p><p>“Yeah,” Race lied easily. He was good at lying; almost too good.</p><p>“But everything worked out though, right?”</p><p>“Oh yeah,” Race faced her and managed a smile. “Nothin’ ta worry ‘bout.”</p><p>Hannah stared up at him and placed her hand over his. He jumped slightly; still not used to physical contact being initiated by someone else. Hannah noticed this and pulled back.</p><p>“I’m sorry,” she murmured.</p><p>Race shook his head. “Nah, don’t sweat it,” he took her hands in his. “I’s jus’ a bit jumpy s’all.”</p><p>“Of course.”</p><p>“Don’t worry ‘bout me, okay Sweetheart?”</p><p>“Okay,” Hannah stroked his hand with her thumb, the way he did when she was upset. “Race?”</p><p>“Hmm?” Race hummed.</p><p>“You wouldn’t… you would’t lie to me, right?”</p><p>Race tried to mask his shock and nervousness. Had Hannah seen through his lie? Did she suspect he was telling tales taller than some of the buildings surrounding them? God, he shouldn’t have lied to her, but he knew he’d only done it to protect her. Race looked into her tired blue eyes and tried to collect himself.</p><p>“No,” Race swallowed thickly. “I’s wouldn’t lie to ya.”</p><p>Hannah smiled up at him and Race felt his heart drop. Why did doing the right thing feel so awful? Was it the right thing?</p><p>“Are you sure you’re feeling up to selling tomorrow?”</p><p>“Course. I’s gonna sell da mornin’ edition an’ den we’s gonna go see Miss Medda. How dat sound?”</p><p>Hannah stifled a yawn. “Wonderful.”</p><p>“You’s tired.”</p><p>“Just a little,” said Hannah.</p><p>“Let’s get ya ta bed,” Race pulled her up with him and the pair headed downstairs to her bunk room. When they passed the boys’ bunk room, Jack stepped out and stopped them.</p><p>“Heya Sweetheart.”</p><p>“Hi, Cowboy.”</p><p>“Mind if I’s borrow dis fella for a minute?”</p><p>“Of course,” said Hannah.</p><p>“I’s come down when we’se done talkin’,” said Race. Hannah nodded and tip-toed her way down the stairs.</p><p>Jack took a deep breath squared off with Race.</p><p>“Does she know?”</p><p>“Know…?” Race tried to play dumb.</p><p>“Know about your deal with Blade,” Jack whispered with intensity.</p><p>Race looked down at the floor. “No.”</p><p>“Did you’s jus’ forget ta tell her or…?”</p><p>“No,” said Race. “I’s lied.”</p><p>“What?”</p><p>“I’s lied an’ told her it was about sellin’ turf.”</p><p>“Jesus Christ, Racetrack,” Jack ran a hand through his hair.</p><p>Race felt himself shake ever so slightly. He was losing his nerve and he could tell Jack was angry. “I’s couldn’t tell her, Jack. I’s couldn’t do dat to her. She’s already worried outta her mind ‘bout havin’ ta tell her folks ‘bout her sista. An’ she’s got dese nightmares an’ don’t sleep properly. An’ I’s know she ain’t eatin’ properly an’ saves everythin’ for the little ones. I’s couldn’t tell her da truth of it, Jack. I’s couldn’t—“</p><p>“Whoah, easy dere,” Jack extended his arms out and waited a beat before he enveloped the shorter newsie in a hug. “I’s ain’t mad. I’s understand.”</p><p>“I’s jus’ couldn’t…”</p><p>“I know,” Jack murmured. “You’s care and you’s jus’ tryin’ ta keep her safe.”</p><p>“You’s got every right ta be angry,” Race tried to stabilize his breathing.</p><p>Jack took deep breaths so Race would match them. “I ain’t angry. I’s scared for ya, Race. An’ you’s know me. When I’s get scared, it comes out as bein’ angry. I’s sorry, pal.”</p><p>Race pulled back slightly. Jack put both of his hands on Race’s shoulders and mustered a comforting smile.</p><p>“I’s sorry too. I’s always gettin’ inta messes an’ I’s neva think.”</p><p>“Dat ain’t true. You’s my right hand man, you know dat. I’s trust ya with my life,” said Jack firmly. “An’ I’s comin’ with ya ta see Blade. You’s ain’t goin’ through with dis alone.”</p><p>“No, Jack, I’s—“</p><p>“I’s goin’ an’ dat’s it,” Jack left no room for debate. “Now go down to ya goil. Tomorrow night we’s go ta Queens.”</p><p>Race nodded weakly. “T’anks, Jack. Really.”</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>***</p><p> </p><p>When Racetrack had described Miss Medda and the theatre to her, Hannah had thought of a grand dame. She couldn’t help but imagine an intimidating woman at the peak of her career. She hadn’t expected a red carpeted theatre with slightly warn seat cushions and thick velvet curtains.</p><p>“So?” Race threw his arm out presentationally. “Whaddya’s thinks?”</p><p>Hannah opened and closed her mouth, both stunned and in shock. It was so much more grand than she’d imagined. She’d never set foot in a theatre.</p><p>“It’s magnificent,” she breathed. She was so engrossed in the gold detailing, she didn’t notice Miss Medda glide towards the pair.</p><p>“Racetrack,” the singer beamed. “How are you doing, baby?”</p><p>“I’s doin’ real good, Miss Medda. Sorry for stoppin’ by all unannounced an’ all.”</p><p>“Oh don’t you worry about that, baby. Who’s this little darling?”</p><p>Race chuckled as Hannah shook herself out of her trance.</p><p>“Dis here’s Sweetheart,” said Race.</p><p>“Hannah Brown, Miss,” Hannah did her best curtsy.</p><p>Miss Medda threw her head back and laughed brightly. “Oh, baby, aren’t you just the sweetest thing?”</p><p>“Dat’s why we’s call her Sweetheart,” Race smiled.</p><p>“I can see that,” said Medda. “Those boys treatin’ you alright?”</p><p>Hannah nodded quickly. “Yes, miss.”</p><p>“Don’t you worry, Sweetheart. Jack told me all about you stayin’ with the boys. I heard you’ve had a bit of a rough start here. Don’t you worry,” Medda lead the pair on stage to the new set being made. “You are welcome here anytime, Sweetheart.”</p><p>“You don’t have to do that, Miss. I really don’t want to impose…”</p><p>“No imposition at all, baby,” Miss Medda saw Hannah’s eyes fixate on her costume wrack. “They’re awfully pretty, aren’t they?”</p><p>“They’re lovely,” Hannah said in a hushed voice. “Are they all yours?”</p><p>“All mine.”</p><p>“Sweetheart here’s a singer too, Miss Medda. Real good too,” Race shoved Hannah’s shoulder playfully. She flushed and bowed her head.</p><p>“Oh I’d hardly call myself a singer…”</p><p>“You’s singin’ dose songs with your teacha right? An you’s learnin’ all dose fancy Italian songs.”</p><p>“Italian?” Miss Medda raised an eyebrow.</p><p>“They’re just a few Mozart songs. Nothing compared to what must grace your stage, miss,” Hannah became flustered. She wasn’t used to praise or attention and she was getting both.</p><p>“An’ what about dat Gilbert an’ Sullivan book you’s got? You’s can sing outta dat, right?”</p><p>“I know the tunes, I hardly think I can sing them well,” said Hannah.</p><p>Miss Medda beamed down at the girl. “Why don’t you sing me something?”</p><p>“Oh, really, I don’t think I’m good enough to sing for you.”</p><p>“I insist,” Miss Medda stepped back and offered the stage to her. “Whatever you’d like.”</p><p>“Well, I—“ Hannah shifted her weight nervously and looked at Race. He was smiling from ear to ear and the sight made her heart swell. “I do know this one song fairly well.”</p><p>“Which one is that?” Miss Medda asked.</p><p>“Poor wand'ring one…”</p><p>“From the Pirates of Penzance, yes I know it well,” the vaudeville singer smiled encouragingly.</p><p>Hannah took a deep breath and closed her eyes for a moment. She imagined her school teacher, playing the the church organ for her. She imagined her teacher’s face and how she’d smile up at her from the organ bench. Finally, she opened her mouth and opened her eyes and somehow, through some sort of crazy happenstance, sound came out.</p><p><em>“Poor wand'ring one! Though thou hast surely strayed, take heart of grace, thy steps retrace, poor wand’ring one…”</em> the song soared out of Hannah’s mouth and bounced off the walls of the theatre.</p><p>Race stood dumbfounded, unable to quite process what he was hearing. He’d maybe thought of Miss Medda and how she sounded when she sang. He’d thought of the other vaudeville acts he’d seen— most of them brassy and lighthearted entertainment. He’d maybe considered Hannah to sound like one of the photograph records he’d heard playing in the gambling halls he’d had the misfortune of frequenting. But Hannah didn’t sound like any of that; she sounded absolutely beautiful. He’d never heard anything like it. Her voice was light and angelic; clear and sparkling. He was so entranced by her small smile and glorious voice, he didn’t even notice when she stopped. He only broke out of his moment when Hannah spoke again.</p><p>“I’ve not had the time to practice and I really don’t know the middle section all that well…”</p><p>“My dear,” Miss Medda approached the girl. “You are truly brilliant.”</p><p>Hannah’s jaw nearly dropped in shock. “Wh—what?”</p><p>“You are wonderful. Just wonderful. I must have you sing here.”</p><p>“Here?” Hannah’s eyes darted around the stage. “On this stage?”</p><p>“To start.”</p><p>“Pardon?”</p><p>“I must get you in contact with a proper teacher— that’s not to say that you aren’t wonderful. You are,” Miss Medda assured the girl. “It’s just your voice has the potential to go beyond a little hall like this. And for that you need real training.”</p><p>“Well, I—“</p><p>“I insist,” Miss Medda said firmly. “You start here, sing something you know very well, and if you take a liking to it, I’ll find you a proper teacher.”</p><p>Hannah didn’t know what to say. Saying thank you simply didn’t seem sufficient. She wanted to pinch herself to see if what was happening, was real.</p><p>“You really think I’m good enough?” Hannah stared up at Medda.</p><p>“Of course I do. When do you think you could be ready? I have a variety performance that I could feature you in tomorrow night? If that’s not too soon?”</p><p>“I’d be honoured!” Hannah replied brightly.</p><p>“So that’s settled. Racetrack, can you be sure to bring my little songbird here for seven?”</p><p>Racetrack nodded enthusiastically. “For sure, Miss Medda! I’s bring all da fellas along too.”</p><p>“You do that,” said Miss Medda. “I think Sweetheart will be glad of the support.”</p><p>“Yes,” Hannah looked up at a beaming Racetrack.</p><p> </p><p>Race spent the remainder of his day selling the afternoon edition and counting his pennies. He’d taken to putting any spare change he had in a dirty sock under his pillow. Jack had told him that if he put it somewhere other than his pocket, he wouldn’t be as tempted to gamble it away. He had a reason to save his money, after all, and the more time he spent with Hannah, the bigger the reason became. It became more than just taking her to see her family. He watched her make supper (offering to help, only to be waved off) and thought about how comfortable it would be to see Hannah cooking in a kitchen that wasn’t communal. He thought about perhaps giving her a small wardrobe to keep her dresses and apron in, instead of an empty chair by a cot. He thought about a bed instead of a cot and blushed bright pink.</p><p>But beds and kitchens with ovens didn’t come cheep. The thought made Racetrack realize the importance of his meeting with Blade. He needed the money. Hannah deserved better than a street rat with twenty cents in a sock.</p><p>Racetrack approached Hannah after they’d all eaten.</p><p>“Sweetheart,” he leaned back against the counter and looked into her lively blue eyes. “I’s gotta head out for a bit.”</p><p><em>Be vague, </em>Race thought, <em>it’s better than a flat out lie.</em></p><p>“Oh,” Hannah tried to hide her disappointment. She didn’t want to pry, but at the same time, she didn’t understand why Racetrack would need to leave the lodging house at eight in the evening, when none of the others boys were joining him. Only Jack waited by the door.</p><p>“I’ll be back real soon,” said Race. “Ten-o-clock, latest. You’s don’t gotta wait up, though. You’s get ta bed an’ rest up. Practice a little if ya want.”</p><p>Hannah seemed hesitant to accept Race’s words. She took a slow step towards him. “You’ll be safe, won’t you? Whatever it is you’re doing?”</p><p>“Of course,” Race offered her his hand. When she took it, he tugged her towards him a little more so she could feel his breath fan across her face.</p><p>“Please,” Hannah looked up at him pleadingly. “Don’t do anything dangerous.”</p><p>“I won’t,” the tip of Race’s nose brushed against Hannah’s and he couldn’t help but blush.</p><p>“I can’t lose you.”</p><p>“Ya won’t,” Race placed a feather light kiss to her cheek. He didn’t want to do anything more when Jack was waiting for him.</p><p>Hannah sensed his caution and sighed. She needed Race to be safe, needed him to understand that his life was precious and important to her. She knew it wasn’t proper or becoming or anything even close to demure, but she couldn’t help herself. Just as Race was about to pull back from her, she stood up on her tip toes and pressed her lips to his. Race stumbled backwards in surprise and held onto the counter for balance. He made a kind of noise in his throat and, once he’d regained his composure slightly, wrapped an arm around Hannah’s waist. He kissed her back and her legs felt like wet noodles trying to support her. Race’s hand fidgeted at her waist, unsure of what to do or touch or feel. He stroked the curve of her waist with his thumb and sweet Jesus, he felt her shiver. But then he remembered where they were and what he had to do. He wanted to keep kissing her, wanting to embrace her and keep her close, but he pulled back.</p><p>“I’s gotta go, Sweetheart,” he breathed as his lips ghosted against hers.</p><p>“I know.”</p><p>“I’ll be safe.”</p><p>“Okay,” Hannah stepped back and watched Race join Jack at the door.</p><p> </p><p>“So,” Jack closed the door behind them. “That looked real innocent. You’s are so sweet on her.”</p><p>Race scratched the back of his neck as they made their way to the Bronx. “Maybe,” he muttered.</p><p>“Maybe? I’s don’t call a kiss like dat a maybe.”</p><p>“She kissed me,” said Race and when Jack said nothing, he looked ahead at where the Bronx lodging house loomed in the distance. “Jack?”</p><p>“Don’t worry, kid. I’s gonna get ya through dis.”</p><p>“I’s not worried ‘bout me,” Race swallowed hard. “I’s scared a’ hurtin’ Sweetheart. She’s too good. Too nice. Too…kind for dis woild I’s in.”</p><p>Jack nodded grimly. “You’s were jus’ tryin’ ta do the right thing. You’s gotta tell her da truth soon though, pal. She desoives da truth of it. You’s can keep lyin’ ta her while you’s doin’ dese jobs. Whatever dese jobs are.” They approached the Bronx lodging house with an air of confidence that wasn’t entirely honest. Jack glanced down at Racetrack and notice him fidget with the sleeve of his warn and too-small jacket. “Don’t worry, Race. I’s gotcha back.”</p><p>Race returned his friends’ glance and forced a smile. “T’anks, Cowboy. Really.”</p><p>“You’s know I’s always gotcha back. No matta what.”</p><p>Jack gave Race a quick but strong side hug and knocked on the door.</p><p>Rock answered it within seconds.</p><p>“We jus’ asked for Higgens.”</p><p>Jack rolled his eyes dramatically. “Quit it with da theatrics, fellas. I’s jus’ here for moral support.”</p><p>“Moral support,” Rock chuckled. “Dat’s rich.”</p><p>Race took in a shaky breath. “You’s can go, Cowboy. I’s don’t need ya.”</p><p>“I’s not goin’ anywhere.”</p><p>“He ain’t comin’ in,” said Rock firmly. “He can wait outside, but he ain’t comin’ in.”</p><p>“Okay,” said Race.</p><p>Jack tried to push Rock aside, but Rock stood his ground. “No,” Jack tried to control his anger. “I’s not waitin’ outside.”</p><p>“Well dat’s jus’n too damn bad,” Blade strode over to stand behind Rock. “Hello, Higgens.”</p><p>“Hi,” Race tried to stand tall.</p><p>“You’s waitin’ right here, Kelly. Don’t cha worry, I’s bring your newsie back in one piece.”</p><p>Jack weighed his options. He could try and soak both Blade and Rock, but even if he and Race did beat them, they’d have to escape an entire empire or well-trained Bronx boys.</p><p>“Fine,” Jack hated admitting defeat. “I’s stayin’ right here, Race. Not goin’ nowhere.”</p><p>“S’okay,” Race tried to send his friend a reassuring smile.</p><p>“Fantastic,” Blade pushed Race into the foyer and slammed the door shut on Jack. “Sit,” he gestured to a wooden table that had three chairs around it. Blade sat down and signalled for Race to join him.</p><p>“T’anks,” Race’s eyes darted around the room.</p><p>“You’s drink?”</p><p>“Sure.”</p><p>“Three whiskeys,” Blade looked over his shoulder at Rock, who was positioned in front of a liquor cabinet. How they had a liquor cabinet, Race had no idea. Didn’t nuns fund the Bronx lodging house too? Race knew the only reason why Spot had booze tucked away was because he kept it hidden in his room. But to have it out in the open? It didn’t make sense. The Bronx ran an entirely different operation.</p><p>“Three whiskeys,” Rock repeated Blade’s order and placed the drinks down in front of the boys.</p><p>“So,” Blade downed his drink in one gulp. “Here’s how dis t’ing is gonna play out. We’s get little errands from a fella named Joe. He woiks for one a’ dem Five Points fellas—Johnny Ellison. We’s get da product from Joe an den you’s gotta take it to it’s destination.”</p><p>“What kinda product we’s talkin’ ‘bout here?” Race kept his voice even, his experience in playing poker coming in handy.</p><p>“Not my problem. I’s jus’ da go-between.”</p><p>“Right,” Race gulped down his whiskey.</p><p>“So,” Blade placed a simple brown envelope onto the table. “Dis came today. It’s needs ta get to dis address,” he handed Race a slip of paper. “For tomorrow mornin’. You’s do dat an’ den report back ta me an’ I’s arrange for you’s ta get your money. You’s a dollar richer by tomorrow afternoon.”</p><p>Race stared down at the envelope. Either he was the stupidest man alive, or he was going to make the easiest money he’d ever made. Race knew it was shady at best, but the thought of a simple delivery earning him a whole dollar made it seem worth it.</p><p>“Dat’s it?” Race looked down at the address. It seemed like a regular street and home address.</p><p>Rock smirked. “Yeah, dat’s it.”</p><p>“I’s can jus’ leave it in da mailbox or—“</p><p>“No,” Blade interrupted sharply. “You’s gotta hand it ova to da fella it’s addressed to.”</p><p>“Alright,” said Race.</p><p>“We’s gotta know dat dis fella got da message.”</p><p>“Right.”</p><p>“One whole dollar,” Blade pushed the envelope closer to Race.</p><p>“I’s doin’ it,” Race pocketed the slip of paper and shoved the envelope under his jacket.</p><p>Blade chuckled, stood up, and extended his hand. “Pleasure doin’ business.”</p><p> </p>
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<a name="section0013"><h2>13. Job</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Gaaaaaaa sorry I'm late with updating this chapter- it kinda turned out to be longer than I intended. <br/>As always, let me know what y'all think! I wasn't sure about this chapter at first, but then again, I'm hyper critical about everything I care about. WOOPS. lol</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Race and Jack stood in front of a slightly run down house on Firmer St.</p><p>“I’s don’ like dis, Race,” Jack shoved his hands into his trouser pockets.</p><p>Race took a deep breath. “Nothin’ to it, Jack. I’s jus’ go and knock an’ hand dis ova an’ den I’s done.”</p><p>“It’s not dat simple.”</p><p>“Yeah,” Race relaxed his shoulders down. “I’s think it is.”</p><p>“Race…”</p><p>“You’s stay here so’s nobody sees ya.”</p><p>“Race, I’s really don’ think ya ought-a be goin’ in der alone,” said Jack.</p><p>Race waved off his concern. “I’s ain’t going in anywhere. I’s jus’ hand dis to some fella and dat’s it.”</p><p>“I’s don’ like it,” Jack leaned against the brick wall of the alley.</p><p>“It’s fine, Jack.”</p><p>“I’s stayin’ right here an’ if I see so much as a second of trouble, I’s comin’.”</p><p>“Fine,” Race muttered. He flashed Jack one last confident smile and bolted to the house.</p><p>He knocked on the door; firmly, but not too aggressive. He waited eight seconds (and yes, he counted) and tried to stand taller than his five-foot-eight stature as a middle-aged man answered the door. He looked like a dock worker.</p><p>“Whaddya want, kid?” the man swayed slightly.</p><p>Racetrack willed his arm to stop shaking and handed the man the envelope. “For you, sir.”</p><p>“Dat so?”</p><p>“Yes.”</p><p>“From who?”</p><p>“Joe,” Race further extended his arm. He wasn’t sure if he was supposed to mention names, but he figured a little bit of the truth in all of this wouldn’t hurt.</p><p>The name seemed to trigger a flicker of rage in the man’s eyes, but he snatched the envelope from Racetrack all the same. He slammed the door shut again and Race dashed back to where Jack was waiting.</p><p>“Done?” Jack finished the cigarette he’d been smoking.</p><p>“Easiest dolla I’s eva made,” Race panted. Part of him was shaken. The look in the man’s eyes didn’t sit well with him. But then another part of Race was proud and delighted. He’d made a dollar; a whole dollar in less than an hour. His brain started to work in overdrive as the two walked back to Manhattan. If he kept doing these jobs, not only could he afford to take Hannah home, but he could afford a place for them. Sure, it would only be tenement housing, but it would be a home. He’d make more than if he worked on the docks or in a factory or as a chimney sweep. He could buy her gloves and a hat and pay for her singing lessons.</p><p>“When’s da next job?” Jack asked, snapping Race out of his daydream.</p><p>“Huh?— Oh, right, yeah, I’s don’t know… well, Blade’s gettin’ my money ta me tomorrow an’ den we’ll see.”</p><p>“Okay,” Jack squinted and looked ahead. “Hey, ain’t dat one of Blade’s boys?”</p><p>“Yeah!” Race exclaimed. “Hey, kid! Kid!” The smaller newsie ran towards them. He didn’t say anything, so Race continued. “Can you’s give a message ta Blade?”</p><p>“Sure!” The little one piped up.</p><p>“Tell ‘em… tell ‘em Race did da job.”</p><p>“M’kay!”</p><p>“T’anks, kid!” Race cried after the boy as he ran off again.</p><p>“Wanna bet he followed us?” Jack watched the boy disappear into the night.</p><p>Race shrugged. “Probably. Blade jus’ wanted ta make sure I did it right. Once he knows I’s up to the woik, he’ll trust me.”</p><p>“I’s don’t think you’s should trust him,” said Jack.</p><p>“Look, it’s money, Jack. If I’s keep dis up, I’s could save money an’ have somethin’ ta offer Sweetheart.”</p><p>“I’s know why you’re doin’ it, Race, I’s jus’ don’t think it’s safe.”</p><p>“Look,” Race faced Jack in front of the lodging house. “You’s saw what happened. Nothin’! Da fella was a little angry, sure, but he didn’t soak me or threaten me or nothin’. I’s poifectly fine.”</p><p>Jack sighed and ran a hand over his face. “Fine,” he opened the door. “Jus’ be careful.”</p><p>“Sure,” Race failed to notice the concern in Jack’s eyes. He saw Hannah waiting by the fireplace and was more excited than ever at the prospect of having earned more money.</p><p>“Heya Sweetheart!” He smiled at the girl.</p><p>Hannah jumped up and blinked rapidly. Had she been crying? It didn’t look like it. Her breath was coming in too fast though, and Race didn’t like how bloodshot her eyes were. Jack backed away from the pair and looked down at his shoes.</p><p>“It’s almost midnight,” Hannah’s voice sounded hollow. “I told Klopman to go to bed. A few of the little ones asked where you were and I told them you’d be home to tuck them in soon. You said ten-o-clock latest. I thought you’d gotten hurt. I thought you’d gotten into trouble or…or <em>god knows what!”</em></p><p>“Sweetheart,” Race tried keep his voice gentle and soothing. “Sweeheart, nothin’ happened. I’s jus’ had ta do some woik an’ it jus’ took a little longer than I’s thought.”</p><p>“Work?” Hannah’s voice shook with emotion. “What kind of work needs to be done at eleven at night? I was worried <em>sick</em> Race, after what happened with your father—“</p><p>“Hey, hey, hey,” Race interrupted her by placing a soft hand on her arm. “I’s right here an’ nothin’ happened.”</p><p>“Sarah came by,” Hannah looked to where Jack was standing. “And you know what I told her? She came here asking for you and I said I didn’t know where you were. She’s upstairs debating whether to inform the police or not.”</p><p>“Sweetheart, I’s sorry,” Jack tried. “Race an’ me… we’s jus’ had to take of some things.”</p><p>“Go to her.”</p><p>“What?”</p><p>“Sarah,” Hannah said. “She’s upstairs with Crutchy.”</p><p>“Right,” Jack frowned and made his way up the stairs. Halfway up, he looked over his shoulder again. “I’s real sorry, Sweetheart. We’s didn’t mean ta upset ya.”</p><p>“Fine,” Hannah relaxed slightly. At least they were home.</p><p>Racetrack reached down to connect their hands. “Sweetheart…” he stroked her hands soothingly.</p><p>“I’m sorry,” Hannah looked down at their hands. “I shouldn’t have gotten so mad.”</p><p>“We’s desoived it,” Race chuckled half-heartedly.</p><p>“A little, Hannah looked up at the newsie. “I was worried.”</p><p>“I’s sorry dat I’s worried ya.”</p><p>“I thought— I thought something had happened and I kept imagining these awful things…”</p><p>“Hey,” Race extended his arms as an offering. He always followed her cues when it came to affectionate. When she allowed herself to relax against his chest, he continued speaking softly. “Nothin’ happened, darlin’, I’s promise. I’s jus’ had a job ta do. It’s a real good job too,” he stroked her hair and marvelled at it’s softness despite being slightly tangled an unwashed. “I’s made a whole dollar.”</p><p>“A dollar?”</p><p>“Yeah,” Race smiled at her shock. “I’s made a dollar an’ I’s savin’ every bit of it.”</p><p>“That’s wonderful, Racetrack,” Hannah pulled back enough to look up at him. She seemed happier. Almost relieved. His pride induced joy was infectious.</p><p>“I’s take care of ya, alright?”</p><p>“We take care of each other,” Hannah corrected firmly.</p><p>“Sure toots, whatever you’s say,” Race winked.He wanted to kiss her; kiss her right then and there because he’d made a whole dollar and maybe, just maybe, luck would be on his side. He leaned in closer, cupping Hannah’s face with his hand, but living in a lodging house filled with rambunctious boys stopped any romantic intentions he may have had.</p><p>A little boy, no older than seven, came running up to the pair.</p><p>“Sweetheart?” He cried.</p><p>Hannah pulled back from Race and knelt down in front of the boy. “Hello there, Marbles!” She tussled his hair affectionately. “Racetrack is home now, see?”</p><p>Marbles stared up at the older newsie. “Where were you?”</p><p>Race held his breath when both Hannah and Marbles looked up at him.</p><p>“I’s doin’ a job, Marbles. Nothin’ ta worry ‘bout.”</p><p>“Well, Marbles was quite scared, weren’t you honey?”</p><p>The young newsies pulled himself up to his full hight and shook his head in defiance. “No sir, not me. I’s real brave. Jus’ like Cowboy an’ Race.”</p><p>“Oh I see,” Hannah pursed her lips in amusement. Race chuckled lightly.</p><p>“Well, I’s home, okay kiddo? You’s betta get ta bed. Gotta be up early ta sell tomorrow!” Said Race.</p><p>Marbles dove forward and hugged Racetrack around the legs and then turned back to Hannah. “T’anks for the stories, Sweetheart. Dey’s real nice.”</p><p>Hannah smiled warmly and embraced the boy. “I’m glad you liked them.”</p><p>“I’s ‘specially liked da one ‘bout you shootin’ dat turkey.”</p><p>“I’ll have to tell it again soon,” said Hannah. “But now you better get off to bed young man. You’ve got an early start tomorrow.”</p><p>“Yeah, an’ I’s gonna see ya sing tomorrow, right? Race told us all about you’s being a big singer now.”</p><p>“If Jack and Race say it’s alright for you to see me sing, then I see no reason why you shouldn’t. Now,” Hannah tussled his hair one last time, making the boy giggle. “Off to bed with you. Three… two…”</p><p>“I’s goin’!” Marbles cried. He bolted up the stairs just as quickly as he had sped down them.</p><p>Race couldn’t help the smile that spread across his face. “You’s good with them.”</p><p>“Hmm?” Hannah turned to face him again.</p><p>“You’s good with them. Da little ones, I mean.”</p><p>“I have a little si—“ Hannah stopped herself. “I had a little sister.”</p><p>Race frowned and stepped forward to embrace her again. Hannah stepped back and shook her head.</p><p>“Sorry,” Race dropped his hands.</p><p>“It’s alright,” said Hannah. “It’s just we shouldn’t be so close—alone, I mean. Anyone could…”</p><p>“I’s understand.”</p><p>“Alright.”</p><p>“Listen, I’s okay, Sweetheart. You’s got nothin’ ta worried ‘bout. Do ya want me ta stay with ya?” Race walked with her to her room.</p><p>Hannah flushed slightly and wrapped her shawl around her more tightly. “If you don’t mind.”</p><p>“I’s don’t mind,” said Race. He slept by her cot again, but he didn’t miss how Hannah had let her hand hang out of the bed so he could hold it while she fell asleep.</p><p> </p><p>***</p><p> </p><p>“Took ya long enough, Higgens,” Blade stood just inside the alley way by Mulberry Street.</p><p>“Yeah well, your little messenger didn’t exactly tell me anythin’ to specific,” Race panted. He’d just finished selling the last of his papers.</p><p>Blade ignored Race’s comment and handed him a small leather coin pouch. “Your clam,” he tossed the Manhattan newsie his earnings.</p><p>“T’anks.”</p><p>“Da kid told me ya did a good job.”</p><p>“I’s did,” Race mustered together as much confidence as he could.</p><p>“I’s got another job for ya.”</p><p>“Oh yeah?”</p><p>“Yeah,” Blade said, his voice devoid of any emotion. “Needs ta get done tonight.”</p><p>“Tonight? But I’s got a—“ Race stopped before giving too much away. He didn’t want Blade or any of his <em>associates </em>knowing about Sweetheart.</p><p>“It’s two clams, Higgins. An’ I’s can give ya da cash tonight even.”</p><p>“When’s it gotta be done by?”</p><p>“Deliver this,” Blade handed Race a smaller envelope and a slip of paper. “To dis address by midnight tonight.”</p><p>Racetrack snatched the envelope from him. “I’s do it right now.”</p><p>“Maybe wait till nightfall. Da fella ain’t liable ta be ‘round till later.”</p><p>“How six-o-clock suit ya?” Race asked. It was cutting it close. He’d promised Sweetheart that he’d take her to Miss Medda’s by seven, but if he finished the job quick and bummed a ride on a streetcar, he could still be back at the lodging house in time to see Sweetheart off.</p><p>“Suits me jus’ fine, Higgens. Say…” Blade lit himself a cigarette. “You’s weren’t plannin’ on going ta dat variety show at Medda’s tonight were ya?”</p><p>“I’s goin’, yeah.”</p><p>“I’s see ya there, then.”</p><p>“Right,” Race didn’t like the sound of that.</p><p>Blade took a drag on his smoke. “Hey, and Higgens?”</p><p>“Yeah?”</p><p>“Ask for a fella named Jim. He’s runnin’ a bit of an…operation, shall we say. He’s da one you’s wanna give dis to.”</p><p>Race pocketed the envelope nervously. “Okay.”</p><p> </p><p>Race watched Hannah make dinner, he watched her fuss over the little ones and caught her eating less so they could have more. He listened to her tell one of the younger newsies another one of her adventures from the prairies. He watched the sun set and sighed.</p><p>“I’s gotta go out for a bit, Sweetheart,” Race put her apron away for her.</p><p>“Another job?”</p><p>“Yeah,” Race looked around at the newsies. They were all too busy playing card games and play fighting to notice Race softly put his hand on Hannah’s arm. “I’s be back real soon. I mean it dis time. I’s be back in an hour ta get you’s ta Meddas.”</p><p>“Alright,” said Hannah. “You don’t have to take me there. I do know the way and I am capable of walking myself.”</p><p>“Pretty goil like you’s shouldn’t be walkin’ da streets alone.”</p><p>“I have before.”</p><p>“Dat don’t make it right,” Race gave Hannah’s arm a slight squeeze. “You’s know dat.”</p><p>Hannah shrugged and pulled her shoulders back. “I need to warm up anyway.”</p><p>“You’s do dat,” Race grinned. He glanced around at the boys once more and threw caution to the wind. He pulled Hannah towards him slightly and pressed a quick kiss to her lips. Hannah’s eyes widened and she flushed deep red.</p><p>“Race!” She looked around, half embarrassed and half scandalized.</p><p>“What?” The newsie chuckled. “For da road.”</p><p>And with that he left the Lodging House for an address not too far from where he’d met Blade earlier that day. Now, Racetrack Higgens was no stranger to the darker inner workings of New York. He knew of the gambling halls and rackets that were illegally run around the city; especially around Five Points and Mulberry Street. He’d never gone too close to either area (Jack forbade it and Spot had threatened to soak him within an inch of his life if he did), but you didn’t live on the streets of New York and not know a thing or two about illegal activities.</p><p>And Racetrack knew enough to know that his destination was, though still close to Manhattan, far from anywhere either Spot or Jack would be too keen on him frequenting. The streets were narrower and the alleys filthier. The tenement houses were dilapidated and crowded. Half-dirty laundry hung across the alleys like warning flags.</p><p>Race made his way down Mulberry Street as quickly as he could. The faster he moved, the faster he could leave again. His destination was a what looked like an abandoned storage unit, but Race knew better. Abandoned meant secret. He knocked on the side door entrance and waited. This time longer than the night before.</p><p>A man who seemed roughly in his early twenties opened the door. He was wearing a waist coat and pocket watch and, Race observed, didn’t seem to have the filth of the city on his person.</p><p>“What business ya got here, kid?”</p><p>“I’s—“ Race swallowed hard. “I’s got a message here for Jim.”</p><p>The man tossed back his head and laughed. “Hey, Jim!” He hollered. “Got a kid here ta see ya!”</p><p>There was a sort of scuffle; someone shouting and then someone being pushed out of the way. Race could hear glasses (or was it bottles?) being moved as a man, around the same age as the first, appeared. Jim was neither tall nor built. He was Racetrack’s hight, but his face was adorned with a thin scar and his hands were bruised and healing, probably from a fight. Race tried not to read too much into it. He’d gotten into plenty of fights before, especially during the strike.</p><p>“Ya got somethin’ for me, kid?”</p><p>Race handed Jim the envelope. “I’s jus’ deliverin’ it.”</p><p>“This from Joe?” Racetrack nodded as Jim opened the letter and read it quickly. “Fuckin’ joke,” he tossed the letter aside. “You can tell whoever it is you answer to that I ain’t producin’ that much product for that measly amount of money.”</p><p>Race looked down at his shoes. “I’s was jus’ told ta deliver this.”</p><p>“Yeah well, I’m tellin’ you to deliver a message from me to Joe. He can fuck off if he thinks that’s a big enough cut.”</p><p>“I’s don’t think—“ Race was cut off by Jim grabbing him by the lapels of his jacket and dragging him into the building.</p><p>“Who are you, kid?”</p><p>“I’s… Racetrack Higgins, sir.”</p><p>“Higgins, huh?”</p><p>“Yeah,” Race’s eyes got accustomed to the dimly lit surroundings. All too suddenly the sounds he had heard before; the bottles hitting each other, made sense. He was standing in front of an assembly line of sorts. It was a distillery. Some men stood in front of vats and some stood funnelling liquid into bottles. The bottles were then handed to men who labeled them and then handed to a man who loaded them into crates.</p><p>“Quite an operation, isn’t it?” Jim watched Racetrack carefully.</p><p>“Yeah,” Race didn’t know what else he could say. He knew he was standing right in the middle of an illegal alcohol production racket.</p><p>“So you understand what I’ve got to deal with here.”</p><p>“Yes, sir.”</p><p>“So then you understand that I need to take care of my own business and I can’t just bow to some son of bitch who thinks he can cheat me outta my fare cut.”</p><p>Racetrack nodded stiffly. “I’s understand.”</p><p>“So then you’ll deliver my message.”</p><p>“Yes sir.”</p><p>“Good kid,” Jim escorted him out the door again. “What is it you do, Racetrack Higgens.”</p><p>“I’s a newsie,” Race said proudly.</p><p>“Well isn’t that just somethin’,” said Jim. “I used to be one of them myself half a lifetime ago. You one of those kids who went on strike?”</p><p>“Yes, sir.”</p><p>“Good for you, kid,” Jim extended his hand to Race. “Your boss is an asshole, but you’re a good kid.”</p><p>Race shook his hand and nodded. “I’s jus’ doin’ my job.”</p><p>“Here,” Jim dropped a five cent piece in Race’s hand. “Take a streetcar.”</p><p>Race’s jaw dropped in shock. He heard the Jim chuckle and mutter something under his breath. Race wanted to thank the man, but he slammed the door shut before he could say anything.</p><p>Race ran the whole way back to the lodging house. He’d save the five cents.</p><p> </p><p>“Sweetheart!” Race checked his pocket watch and ran into the lodging house. Six forty-five. He’d done it.</p><p>Hannah was standing with Crutchy and Jack by the staircase. She looked beautiful. Sarah had come to help her get ready. She’d filled a tub with fresh hot water and gave her a bar of lavender soap that she’d made. Hannah had never used something so lovely. Sarah had skilfully pinned her hair back like a Gibson Girl, but Hannah had refused to borrow any more of her dresses. No, if she was going to perform, she would perform as herself. Hannah Brown; farmer’s daughter from the prairies of Wisconsin.</p><p>Racetrack was at a loss for words. He knew he looked ridiculous with his jaw dropped and eyes wide. (The boys hooting and hollering didn’t help matters.)</p><p>“Cat got your tongue?” Hannah blinked up at him innocently. Racetrack’s throat went suddenly dry and all sense of propriety seemed to vanish from his brain. Hannah looked so <em>gorgeous</em> with her hair up and done and her skin fairly sparkling. The blue dress she’d warn all day even seemed more beautiful on her than before.</p><p>“You’s…” Race tried to find the right words. “You’s a real looker, toots.”</p><p>Hannah’s eyes widened. “Shush!” She glanced around at the boys nervously.</p><p>Racetrack snickered. “You’s ready ta go?”</p><p>“Yes,” Hannah took Race’s hand when he offered it and let out a shaky breath.</p><p>“You’s nervous?”</p><p>“A little,” Hannah let Race lead her out the door. “Okay, a lot.”</p><p>Race placed a hand on the small of her back. Even though he was taking things slow, he wanted at least some of the boys and anyone close by to know that they were together. Hannah smiled up at him nervously.</p><p>“This okay?”</p><p>“Yes,” Hannah flushed.</p><p>As they approached the theatre, Race placed a feather light kiss to her cheek. “It’s gonna be fine, Sweetheart.”</p><p>Racetrack wasn’t entirely sure if he was talking about Hannah’s performance, or the job he had done not half an hour before.</p><p> </p>
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<a name="section0014"><h2>14. Moment</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I'm baaaaaaaack. What a concept. <br/>Okay, so, this is (apart from a little bit of tension and angst) a pretty freaking fluffy chapter for y'all. Lots of swooning, smitten Racetrack ft. Hannah being strong willed. <br/>Hope y'all like it! Your thoughts and comments mean THE WORLD to me, lovelies. &lt;3</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Race sat beside Jack and Crutchie at one of the tables closest to the stage. They’d laughed when a vaudeville singer who sang a humorous song about his troubled marriage. They watched a magician and a juggler, all the while Race’s eyes darted around the theatre.</p><p>“She’s gonna be fine,” Crutchie assured Race in a hushed whisper during a round of applause.</p><p>“I dunno know why I’s nervous,” Race tried to catch a glimpse into the wings.</p><p>“You’s care,” said Crutchie, like it was the simplest thing in the world. And maybe it was? Race had long ago realized that he didn’t subscribe to the Spot Conlon school of <em>get tough and you won’t get hurt. </em>Race cared about Hannah and, even though that particular realization scared him (why, he hadn’t quite figured out yet) it felt good to hold somebody close again.</p><p>“She’s real sweet on you’s, ya know,” Crutchie continued, his voice good-natured and light.</p><p>“Really?” Race couldn’t help but doubt his friend. Even though he was a dreamer, Race knew full well that even with his job, he wouldn’t be able to afford anything close to a good life.</p><p>“Really,” Crutchie assured him. “She’s real nice too. Fixed my shirt for me yesterday and everythin’ an’ I’s didn’t even ask her ta do it.”</p><p>“Yeah, dat sounds like her.”</p><p>“Are you’s gonna ask her?”</p><p>“Ask her what?” Race tried to keep his focus on the stage in the hopes that Crutchie would take the hint.</p><p>“Ta be ya goil a-course,” Crutchie whispered. “Don’t gotta be nothin’ serious, Race. Jus’ ask her ta step out with ya or somethin’.”</p><p>Race sighed and fiddled with the cigar in his hand. “She’s a good goil, Crutch. She don’t need a bum like me holdin’ her back. All I’s doin’ right now is helpin’ her.”</p><p>“You ain’t a bum.”</p><p>“Sure I’s am,” said Race. “Gamblin’ an’ going ta Sheepshead on da time. I’s can’t hold on ta money and I’s always… “ his voice trailed off. Miss Medda came on stage, met by enthusiasmfrom every newsie and lower-class trades worker in the hall. Race held his breath. He heard Medda introduce Hannah as the little Sweetheart from Wisconsin and Race felt like his heart was about to burst out of his chest. Hannah came on stage, offering a small nod to the audience, and when the Spinet piano started to play, it was as if time stood still. All Race could focus on was Hannah’s slightly nervous smile and shining, sparkling, glorious voice that seemingly danced around the hall.</p><p>He didn’t noticed Crutchie murmur an involuntary <em>wow</em> <em>she’s amazing</em> and he didn’t notice the look of brotherly pride Jack had on his face. Sarah sat next to him, her expression a mix of awe and wonder.</p><p>Race had heard people sing. The newsies were frequent audience members at Medda’s theatre. But Race had never heard anyone sing like Hannah. Usually there was hooting and shouting during a singers performance, but Hannah had quite literally rendered the entire hall speechless. The second the last note rang out clear as a bell, Jack jumped up onto his feet and clapped so vigorously, it had to have been painful. Race heard his friend yell <em>Atta girl, Sweetheart,</em> and it was at that point that Race was finally brought back to earth. He stared up at Hannah, who was all flustered and flushed with embarrassment, and met her dancing eyes. She offered him a small, unsure smile, to which Race responded by mouthing the word <em>beautiful.</em> Hannah beamed from ear to ear and left the stage only to have Miss Medda push her back to take another bow.</p><p>“She’s amazing!” Crutchie exclaimed as the show came to a close and everyone stood up again.</p><p>“Yeah,” Race breathed, still in a daze. “Yeah, she really is.” He didn’t pay attention to any of his friends’ comments after that; he only had eyes for Hannah, who was waiting by the backstage door.</p><p>Race opened and closed his mouth a few times. He couldn’t express how proud and amazed he was.</p><p>“Was I alright?” Hannah’s voice came timid and shy.</p><p>Race connected their hands and gazed into her expectant eyes. “Alright?” He let out a breathy chuckle. “You’s incredible, Sweetheart. I’s never hoid anythin’ like it.”</p><p>“You mean it?”</p><p>“I mean it,” Race said earnestly. “Everyone t’inks you’s some kinda angel or somethin’.”</p><p>Hannah flushed pink at the compliment. “Miss Medda…” she paused. “She said she would introduce me to a teacher. A real teacher, Race.”</p><p>“Dat’s great, Sweetheart!” Race smiled broadly. How they would pay the lessons, he had no idea, but he allowed himself the momentary joy nonetheless.</p><p>Miss Medda approached the pair, glowing and proud. “Take her for a walk, won’t you Racetrack? I’m sure the others would like to talk to her.”</p><p>“Sure, Miss Medda,” Race extended his arm out to Hannah. She linked her arm with his and blushed. They made their way through the remaining crowed of newsies, mostly from Manhattan and a few from Brooklyn. Spot strutted his way over to them, ignored Racetrack entirely, but bowed down in front of Hannah. She let out a giggle, half hour of nervousness and half out of amusement.</p><p>“You’s sure are quite somethin’, Sweetheart,” Spot tipped his newsie cap to her. “I’s buy ya a drink of you’s interested.”</p><p>“No, thank you,” Hannah spotted Diamond, Spot’s most recent conquest by the makeshift bar. “Besides, I think you already have somebody who’s interested.”</p><p>Spot rolled his eyes and adjusted his cain. “You’s take da fun outta everythin’ don’t ya?”</p><p>“She’s your girl.”</p><p>“At the moment,” Spot smirked, tipped his cap again, and made his way over to Diamond.</p><p>“He really is awful,” Hannah whispered in Race’s ear.</p><p>He snickered in response. “I’s would be too if I’s had Diamond hangin’ off my arm every day.”</p><p>“Race!” Hannah scolded him playful.</p><p>“What?”</p><p>“For all we know, she could be a lovely girl.”</p><p>“Spot’s type of goils are neva lovely. Ain’t exactly smart either.”</p><p>“Is that so?”</p><p>“It is,” Race waved at a few Brooklyn newsies they passed. They payed Hannah compliments that she waved off as being unnecessary.</p><p>“And what type of girl do you like?” Hannah asked boldly. She instantly regretted her question. God, her older sister had been right, she really did speak before she thought. Maybe she was just riding on the high and confidence after having been on stage for the first time.</p><p>To Hannah’s immense relief, Racetrack seemed amused and completely unbothered by her decided unladylike behaviour.</p><p>“Well, I’s like goils who got dere own mind. I’s like goils who’re smart an’…” Race put his arm around her waist and pulled her more to his side. His lips brushed the side of her neck as he reached to whisper in her ear. “I’s like goils who sing.” He pulled back from her and grinned cheekily. </p><p>Hannah tried to look away from Race to hide the fact that her face was heating up.</p><p>“You don’t mean that, Racetrack,” said Hannah.</p><p>“Coise I’s do,” Race said in earnest. “Say, you’s eva had a soda before?”</p><p>“Soda?”</p><p>“Ya know, Coca-Cola? S’got bubbles in it an’—oh hell, you’s wanna try one?” Race lead her over to the bar where Miss Medda was.</p><p>“I really should’t.“</p><p>“It ain’t booze,” Race placed his five cent coin on the counter. “C’mon Sweetheart, I’s know you’ll like it. Let me get one for you’s. It’ll be a celebration.”</p><p>“Alright,” Hannah finally nodded timidly.</p><p>Race smiled over the counter at Miss Medda. “Two Coca-Cola sodas. One for me an’ one for da lady.” He pushed the five cents towards Medda proudly. Sodas were a luxury, one that Medda hated having to charge the boys for, but they were expensive to procure. She’d only just received a licence to have a soda fountain.</p><p>“Absolutely,” Medda took the five cents and gave Race three pennies in return. He shouldn’t have gotten change, but the vaudeville singer very rarely charged any of her boys full price.</p><p>When Miss Medda pushed the two drinks towards the pair, Race turned to face Hannah and raised his glass.</p><p>“Ta you,” he winked. “For ya foist time singin’ on a stage.”</p><p>Hannah raised her own glasses and offered Race a cautious <em>cheers</em>. Race waited for Hannah to take her first sip, too curious to see her reaction to have any of his own drink yet. Her eyebrows raised up as she slowly drank.</p><p>“It’s…” Hannah lowered her glass slightly. “Like drinking sparkles!”</p><p>Racetrack laughed at this and took a sip of his own drink. “So you’s like it?”</p><p>“It’s delightful! I’ve known anything like this in my life!”</p><p>“Suppose I’s gotta get ya dis more often.”</p><p>Hannah took another sip, her face lighting up with pure joy.</p><p>They finished their drinks slowly, savouring every sip and stealing glances at each other, all flustered and unsure of what to do with themselves. Race wanted to hold her hand that dangled between their chairs, but newsies coming by to pay Hannah compliments always stopped him.</p><p>“You’s tired? I’s can take ya back home,” Race noticed Hannah try to suppress a yawn.</p><p>“No, no, you should stay with you friends. I can go on my own.”</p><p>“You’s gettin’ escorted back whether you’s like it or not. ‘Sides, I’s get real lonely with dese fellas all da time,” Race said forcefully, but with a playful wink.</p><p>“If it’s a matter of loneliness, then I must accept.”</p><p>“Good.”</p><p>“I wouldn’t want you carrying a torch for someone all by your lonesome.”</p><p>“Hey,” Race hopped off the chair and offered Hannah his arm again. “Who said anythin’ ‘bout carryin’ a torch?”</p><p>Hannah giggled and dropped her head onto his shoulder for moment. Race felt like he would altogether float away. He’d seen the most beautiful girl sing the most beautiful song and had that beautiful girl holding onto his arm. His body seemed to be hyper sensitive to any place she touched, even if it was a simple tickle of her hair by his cheek. He shivered involuntarily and smiled to himself. He felt like the bubbling coca cola he’d just drank.</p><p>They were stopped by the door, though. By someone Race had entirely forgotten about.</p><p>“Higgens,” Blade spat in his hand and offered it to Race. He reciprocated hesitantly.</p><p>“Blade.”</p><p>“I’s got two clams for ya,” he kept his hand low and passed a small coin pouch to Race.</p><p>“T’anks.”</p><p>“You’s have any trouble?”</p><p>“Gave da fella what you’s said,” Race glanced down at Hannah and then back up at Blade. “He said he didn’t like the deal.”</p><p>“But he took da letter?”</p><p>“Yeah.”</p><p>“We’ll talk more tomorra,” Blade took a long drag on his cigarette. “I’s got a big job for you’s. Five clams, Higgens. How’s four-o-clock work for you’s?”</p><p>Race raised on eyebrow. <em>Five dollars?</em> That was half a train ticket. “Where should I meet ya?”</p><p>“Same place.”</p><p>“Okay.”</p><p>Blade directly his focus to Hannah and looked her up and down. The sensation made Hannah feel uncomfortable. Racetrack stiffened next to her.</p><p>“You’s were… charmin’,” Blade smirked at Hannah. She nodded her thanks, but remained silent. “She ya goil, Higgens?”</p><p>“W—what?” Race stammered in spit of himself. He didn’t want Blade to know about his relationship with Hannah. The less he knew the better. He didn’t want her involved with anything. The fact that she’d overheard their discussion about his next job made him very uneasy.</p><p>“Blondie ova here. She ya goil?”</p><p>“No,” Race tried to channel as much of Spot’s toughness as he could muster.</p><p>“So she’s jus’ hangin’ off your arm ‘cause…”</p><p>“We’s friends,” Race said in a low voice. “Nothin’ serious. She ain’t my goil.”</p><p>“Friends,” Blade tossed the end of his cigarette out the door. “Sure.” He turned away, adjusted his hat, and left without another word.</p><p>Racetrack lead Hannah out the door after a few moments, but he didn’t fail to notice the way Hannah hung her head.</p><p>“Hey,” Race stopped in the middle of the sidewalk, only a few steps away from the lodging house. “I’s didn’t mean dat back dere.”</p><p>“What did you mean?” Hannah dropped her hand from Race’s arm and stood to face him. “Because you were saying some <em>very</em> curious things back there.”</p><p>“Sweetheart, you’s know I’s care about you.”</p><p>“I don’t wish to talk about this on street,” Hannah rushed to the lodging house, Racetrack calling her name and trailing behind her. She didn’t stop until she’d closed the door to her bunk room behind her. Then she looked up at Racetrack expectantly.</p><p>“Sweetheart, I’s sorry,” Race tried to reach for her hands, but she backed away.</p><p>“Friends don’t hold hands, Racetrack.”</p><p>“You’s not jus’ my friend.”</p><p>“That’s what you told Blade. The boy who you’re now doing jobs for. The same boy you had told me is involved in all sorts of bad business. What am I supposed to think, Race? What exactly should I believe?”</p><p>Race felt a lump form in his throat. “I’s couldn’t let Blade know what you’s mean ta me, Sweetheart. I’s had ta lie ta him ta keep you’s safe.”</p><p>“And I suppose your safety is worth toying with?”</p><p>“Whaddya mean?”</p><p>“I mean,” Hannah took the pins out of her hair. “Why do you worry about my safety, but not your own? You shouldn’t be so careless with your own life, Racetrack. Not when it means so much to me.” The words left Hannah’s mouth before she realized it. She’d really put her foot in it. She’d admitted far too much.</p><p>Race took a cautious step towards her and put a hand on her shoulder.</p><p>“I’s real sorry, Sweetheart,” he murmured. “I’s shoulda told ya I’s doin’ jobs for Blade.”</p><p>“It really isn’t any of my business.”</p><p>“Still,” said Race. “I ain’t bein’ honest. An you’s desoive honesty.”</p><p>“Are you being safe?”</p><p>“Nothin’s happened, doll. I’s jus’ takin’ letters ta folks an’ dat’s it.” There was more to it. His job earlier that day was hardly a letter delivery, but that part Race still thought he aught to omit.</p><p>“Okay.”</p><p>“An I’s don’t t’ink of ya as jus’ a friend,” Race put a finger under Hannah’s chin and lifted it. “I’s t’ink you’s beautiful an’ talented an’ brave an’—God, I ain’t good at t’ings like dis— you’s desoive betta than what I’s can offer you’s. You’s incredible, Sweetheart, an’ I’s don’t t’ink of ya as jus’ a friend. Not for a second. I’s t’ink of ya like—what I’s mean ta say is, would ya mind if I’s walked out with ya?”</p><p>Hannah stared up at Racetrack, still processing his declaration. “Race, I…”</p><p>“You’s don’t have ta say yes. I’s understand if ya don’t wanna. I mean, I’s jus’ bum from da streets. I’s got immigrant parents dat ain’t around no more an’ I’s got nothin’ ta offer you’s. I’s—“</p><p>“Race?” Hannah cut him off gently.</p><p>“Yeah?”</p><p>“I’d quite like to walk out with you.”</p><p>“Ya would?”</p><p>“Yes.”</p><p>“Really?” Racetrack felt them inch closer together so their noses were practically brushing.</p><p>“Yes,” Hannah repeated, her voice hardly above a whisper.</p><p>“You’s were incredible tonight.”</p><p>“Thank you for being there.”</p><p>“Of course,” Race cupped her face with his palm. “Sweetheart?”</p><p>“Yes?”</p><p>“Can I’s kiss you?”</p><p>Hannah’s breath hitched at his question, but she nodded quickly. It wasn’t proper to be engaging in any kind of physical intimacy unchaperoned, but when Race gazed into her eyes, all earnest and awe struck, propriety seemed to slide further and further from her mind.</p><p>Their lips only brushed at first. She was more nervous this time, perhaps due to their declarations and the emotions bouncing off the walls. She giggled nervously as their noses bumped. Racetrack chuckled and placed both of his hands on her face, cupping it with a feather light touch. Finally, after swallowing his nervous energy, Race connected his lips with hers. This time it was with intent. He intended on showing Sweetheart how much she mattered to him and since his words had hardly been poetic, he did what he did best. He communicated through action.</p><p>One kiss turned into two and when Hannah kissed him back, a small little sigh escaping her lips, Race couldn’t help but drop his hands to her waist a pull her towards him slightly. The adjustment seemed to suit Hannah, as her response was to place one of her hands on his shoulder to steady herself and the other crept up to knock his cap off his head.</p><p>Race’s hands traced the curve of her waist, straying a little this way and that, but still treading carefully. He shuddered, actually shuddered and let a little noise escape from the back of this throat when he felt Hannah’s fingers run through his hair. They kissed, two kisses turning into three and then four. After four, Race lost track and surrendered himself to the feel of Hannah’s lips, still slightly sweet from the coca cola and her hand tugging lightly on his hair.</p><p>Hannah had never felt so alive, so <em>perfect</em> in all her life. Being on stage had been a thrill and she couldn’t wait to sing again, but kissing Racetrack was an entirely different sensation. She knew it was wrong to have a boy kiss her and to kiss him back and to have him open his mouth slightly to deepen the kiss. God, it was positively sinful, but it felt far too good and Hannah realized, as Race’s hand trailed up her back to touch her hair, that she’d been deprived of far too much good. Sugar and kisses were a new and welcome addition to her life.</p><p>“Race,” Hannah breathed between kisses. She shortened his name without realizing it and the small change made him grin against her lips.</p><p>“Yeah?” He kissed her cheek and then her nose, prompting her to giggle again. “We’s should—“ another quick kiss to her lips. “Probably stop.”</p><p>“Probably,” Hannah pulled back a millimetre.</p><p>“Probably,’ Race repeated softly. Hannah raised herself up on her tiptoes and leaned in for one last kiss, only for the door to open.</p><p>“Heya, I’s saw you both leavin’ an—oh,” Jack froze as the pair jumped apart. “I’s—uh—ya want some tea? I’s makin’ tea.”</p><p>“Tea?” Race adjusted his pocket watch nervously.</p><p>“Yeah, tea,” Jack cleared his throat. “Care ta join me?”</p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Couple notes for you to nerd along with me. Because I've been doing my *boop boodie boop boop* research (GMM reference, anyone?) and have fun facts for y'all now. <br/>SO the song Hannah sings is the same song she first sang for Miss Medda. <br/>Poor Wandering One is from The Pirates of Penzance by Gilbert and Sullivan. Gilbert and Sullivan were a popular operetta song writing duo. The Pirates of Penzance premiered in 1879 at the Fifth Avenue Theatre (then broadway theatre).<br/>Poor Wandering One is an extremely difficult song (I have since listened to a few recordings) and is meant to be sung by a soprano. <br/>ALSO, fun fact, when Racetrack is teaching her Italian, he's teaching her the words to Dove sono i bei momenti from The Marriage of Figaro by Mozart. The translation is "Where are those happy moments."</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0015"><h2>15. Money</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Wow I'm back! What a concept. <br/>So things are starting to heat up majorly now. I'm hoping this story isn't to slow burn for y'all, but I was hoping to build tension. Thank you to everyone who's reading this and thanks so much for your support and comments!! Every little bit of feedback means so much to me. I go through a lot of anxiety before posting anything so it's so great to see people enjoying it :) <br/>Warning that I maayyyy not get around to posting the next chapter for at least a week or so, because the chapters are getting lengthier and heavier.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>After Race assured Hannah that Jack’s interruption was no cause for alarm, she fell asleep, leaving the boys alone in the makeshift kitchen.</p><p>“So,” Jack sipped his tea loudly. “Dat was…taking things slow?”</p><p>Race felt the tips of his ears heat up. “We wasn’t—it wasn’t—“</p><p>“What it looked like?” Jack finished unamused. “‘Cause ta me it looked pretty serious.”</p><p>“We’s got inta an argument,” Race kept his focus on the chipped mug in his hands. “Blade gave me my money in front of her an’ told me about another job. He—he asked about Sweetheart an’ I’s lied ta him an’ told him we’s jus’ friends.”</p><p>“An’ dat upset Sweetheart, I’s bettin’.”</p><p>“‘Course it did,” said Race. “She had every right ta be anergy an’ hoit.”</p><p>“You’s tried ta protect her.”</p><p>“Dat’s what I’s told her. But den she’s goin’ on ‘bout how I’s don’t look out for myself an’ dat she cares ‘bout me an’…”</p><p>“You’s not carin’ ‘bout yourself scares her. She just lost her sister after moving away from her family. You’s da foist t’ing she’s cared ‘bout in a long, long, time an’ she can’t lose you too.”</p><p>“I ain’t goin’ nowhere,” Race said determined.</p><p>Jack shrugged, not knowing how to reply. He looked at his friend closely and noticed how, despite his obvious excitement, he seemed exhausted, drawn, and pale.</p><p>“You’s need ta look out for yourself too, Race,” said Jack.</p><p>“I’s fine, Jack, I’s got dis all unda control.”</p><p>“You t’ink Blade bought it? What you’s told ‘em, I mean?”</p><p>“Yeah,” Race sipped at his tea a little. “Look, s’long as he don’t realize dere’s anythin’ serious between me an’ Sweetheart, s’fine.”</p><p>“Is it?” Jack looked at Race from across the table. “Serious between you two?”</p><p>Race’s leg jigged nervously. “Maybe.”</p><p>“‘Cause what I’s walked in on before looked pretty serious.”</p><p>“I’s don’t know, Jack!” Race exclaimed, suddenly feeling quite overwhelmed. “I ain’t neva felt like dis before an’ when I’s asked her ta walk out with me, she said yes an’ now I’s don’t know, Jack! I’s jus’ wanna do right by her an’ I mean, you’s with Sarah…”</p><p>“An’?”</p><p>“An’…maybe you’s know what ta do. Or maybe Spot does.”</p><p>“Spot?” Jack choked on his tea. “Ya wanna get lessons in romance from Spot? All you’s would loin is how ta break a goil’s heart.”</p><p>Race cracked a grin. “Yeah, dat’s true.”</p><p>“Look, I’s know you’s t’ink I’s some great Casanova or somethin’,” Race snorted but allowed Jack to continue. “But I’s don’t got it all right eitha.”</p><p>“Dat so?”</p><p>“Ya like dis tea?”</p><p>“What does tea gots ta do with anythin’?”</p><p>“Jus’ answer da question.”</p><p>“I’s don’t know,” Race took another small sip and grimaced. “What’s with da tea, anyway?”</p><p>“Do you’s like it?”</p><p>Race pushed his mug back and forth a few times. “It’s… pretty terrible.”</p><p>“Yeah, I’s know.”</p><p>“Den why’re you’s givin’ me tea dat tastes like grass?”</p><p>Jack chuckled at this. “‘Cause Sarah made it. She gave me a huge jar full an’ I’s told her it’s great an’ now I’s stuck with havin’ ta drink dis all da time.”</p><p>“Suppose it’s…good for ya?” Race smelled the tea and made a gagging sound.</p><p>“Who knows. Maybe I’s live ta a hundred drinkin’ dis stuff.”</p><p>“What’s ya point, Jack? Sweetheart don’t make me no tea.”</p><p>“What I’s tryin’ ta say is, I’s ain’t got it all figured out eitha. I’s say dumb stuff and do dumb t’ings too. What you’s need ta do right now is slow down an’ make sure you’s stay safe. Dese jobs,” Jack paused and ran a hand through his hair. “They’re dangerous an’ I’s don’t care what you’s tryin’ ta convince me. You’s puttin’ yourself in danger an’ it scares da life outta me an’ it’s scarin’ Sweetheart. You’s keep what’s going on between you’s an Sweetheart real quiet like an’ stop dese jobs if they get too much, okay?”</p><p>Race nodded in understanding. Jack was right. As much as he wanted to walk out with Sweetheart and show the world how happy she made him, he knew it was too dangerous. His encounter with Blade had already been too close for comfort.</p><p>“Dis next job’s worth five clams, Jack.”</p><p>“What is it?”</p><p>“Don’t know,” Race knew his answer wasn’t a good one, but at least it was the truth.</p><p>“You’s walkin’ in dere blind,” Jack stated it as a fact.</p><p>“I’s can handle myself, Jack. An’ for five clams, I’ll figure out a way ta get outta just about any jam.”</p><p>“How many after that?”</p><p>“How many what?”</p><p>“Jobs,” Jack leaned back in his chair and ensured eye contact with Race.</p><p>“If I’s do dis one an’ da next few are woith dat much too, den I’s jus’ gotta do two or three more an’ I’s paid for da train tickets ta take Sweetheart ta see her folks.”</p><p>“Okay.”</p><p>“She had a soda for da foist time tonight, Jack. Dis fella gave me five cents an’ I’s paid for her ta have a coca cola an’ her face,” Race smiled involuntary. “She was so happy. An’ if I’s keep doin’ dese jobs, I’s can give her all dese t’ings she ain’t neva done before. I’s wanna take her ta Coney Island an’ da roller coasters. I’s wanna take her to da Opera an’ have a picnic in central park an’ take her ta church on Sunday. I’s jus’ wanna be able ta do dat for her. I’s bet she’s neva even had chewin’ gum before.”</p><p>“Probably not,” Jack couldn’t help but smile at Racetrack’s excitement. His boys were happy. Sure, they didn’t always go to bed with full stomaches, but they never went hungry. They had clothes and washed (sometimes) and Klopman made sure they knew their numbers and letters as well as any school boy. They weren’t wanting for anything essential, but they were physically cold in the winters and they were tired. Long days out in all weather conditions made for a willing body, but not always a willing spirit. The look of pride Racetrack had, as he rambled on about his potential plans, made Jack smile no matter how dangerous he thought the jobs were.</p><p>“An’ Medda said she’s gonna introduce Sweetheart to dis singin’ teacha. I mean, can you’s <em>imagine.</em> She could perform in one of dem fancy halls one day!”</p><p>“I’s can see dat,” said Jack. “She was all Sarah was talkin’ ‘bout when I’s walked her home.”</p><p>“She really was incredible,” Race tried another sip of tea. “ But dis tea really is terrible.”</p><p>“Yeah,” Jack got up to pour his into the sink. “It really is.”</p><p> </p><p>***</p><p> </p><p>Race met Blade near Mulberry Street again. The same spot they had met a few days prior.</p><p>“Higgins,” Blade extended his hand and the pair spit shook.</p><p>“Blade.”</p><p>“I’s got an offer for ya.”</p><p>“Oh yeah?” Race lit himself a cigarette. “What’s dat?”</p><p>“Well, you know how I’s told ya ‘bout a job woith five clams?”</p><p>“Yeah?”</p><p>“How ‘bout you do one worth double dat.”</p><p>“Double?” Race practically chocked on the smoke. “Ten dollars?”</p><p>“Ten clams, buddy-boy. Ten clams an’ all you’s gotta do is keep watch.”</p><p>“Keep watch?”</p><p>“Joe needs an extra man for dis job tonight. Said dere would be a few other fellas involved, but you’s only need ta stand an’ keep watch.”</p><p>Again, Racetrack knew there was more to it, but decided willing ignorance would have to work in his favour.</p><p>“What time and where,” Race kept his voice even and expression hard and set.</p><p>“Eleven o-clock at dis address,” Blade handed him another slip of paper.</p><p>Race examined it and raised an eyebrow. “Dis is a real fancy neighbourhood.”</p><p>“Sure is. You’s movin’ up in da woild, kid.”</p><p>“Right,” Race let out a disgruntled sniff. He hated when some of other newsies referred to him as <em>kid, </em>or <em>kiddo. </em>He’d be aging out of the Lodging House in a few years and he was hardly a year younger than Blade or any of the other leaders.</p><p>“Pleasure doin’ business as always,” Blade tipped his hat to Race and disappeared into the milling crowds of people.</p><p> </p><p>Race had snuck out to do the job. He told Sweetheart he had to go out late, but he didn’t say where and he didn’t tell any of the boys or Klopman. His plan was to disappear into the night and come back without anyone being the wiser. He spent enough time playing cards and gambling in Brooklyn, he assumed that was where the boys would think he went.</p><p>He had to run practically the whole way there, as there were neither streetcars nor too many carriages available late at night. Panting, he slowed down to a walk when he reached the the desired street. He saw a young man by the street corner eye him suspiciously, but he didn’t make anything of it. He kept walking until he saw three men crowded around an automobile.</p><p>One of them spotted him and waved him over.</p><p>“You the kid?” The man who appeared to be their leader adjusted the lapels of his jacket.</p><p>Race took a deep breath and steadied himself. “Yeah, I’s your man.”</p><p>“Ya ever done lookout before?”</p><p>Race shrugged, figuring a non-verbal answer was vague enough to not get him into any trouble. The man smirked and took out a small tin box. There was a white powder inside and when the man tipped his head forward to snort some of it, Race hoped to hell he’d masked his gasp well.</p><p>“What?” The man threw his head back, shook it and swallowed a few times. “You never seen snow before?”</p><p>“Snow?” Race knew he looked like a fool.</p><p>“Snow,” the man shushed the other two who were laughing. “As in, <em>cocaine.</em>”</p><p>“Co—cocai—<em>oh,</em>” Race shook his head when the man offered him the tin.</p><p>“Suit yourself, kid. I’m tellin ya, it makes shit like this a breeze,” he looked up at the house they were standing in front of. “Well boys, the lights have been out for a good hour. I think we’re good.”</p><p>The two other men nodded and pulled a few bags from the back of the automobile.</p><p>“You stay right here, kid. We’re going in, taking care of some business, and when we’re done, you’re free to go. Now,” the leader cleared his throat. “Suppose we get into a jam. Then you’ll hear Carl here whistle and you signal Larry over there to come as back up. Nobody’s home right now ‘cept the maids so all you really gotta watch for is anyone comin’ home. Watch Larry an’ he’ll light his cigarette if he sees anythin’ fishy. You see him do that, you come to the front door an’ call for us.”</p><p>Race tried to digest all the instructions. “Okay.”</p><p>“Good kid,” the leader padded his shoulder. “We’ll be back in two shakes.”</p><p>The three men took off towards the house as Racetrack stood watch. The street was deserted save for Larry, who had been the man he’d seen standing at the corner of the street. Larry’s cigarette stayed unlit, but Racetrack’s heart pounded uncontrollably. He was assisting a robbery. Three men, completely high on cocaine, were robbing a house while he stood watch. <em>Ten dollars</em>, Racetrack kept repeating the words to himself as the seconds passed. <em>Ten whole dollars. That’s a whole two-way train ticket. </em>His thoughts of taking Hannah home were interrupted, though, when he caught Larry lighting his cigarette.</p><p>“Shit,” Race cursed under his breath. He ran to the front door of the mansion-like home and whistled.</p><p>One of the men, not the leader, came running and then skidding to a halt in front of Race. The two other two men were seconds behind him.</p><p>“Had to knock out one of the maids, but I got it,” the leader sneered and lifted his half-full bag. “Side door’s open, let’s get the fuck outta here.”</p><p>Race followed the three men through the house, grimaced as one of them pushed a servant aside so hard that he fell to the ground and hit his head, and ran out the side door.</p><p>“Fuck kid, c’mon,” the youngest of the three grabbed Race by the collar and shoved him behind a bush where they all hid.</p><p>They waited while a carriage trotted by, thankfully not stopping in front of the house.</p><p>“Wasn’t even fuckin’ them,” the group’s leader laughed and got up. “Thanks, kid.”</p><p>“Sorry,” Race didn’t know where to look. The other two men were busying themselves counting wads of cash.</p><p>“You did your job, kid. And a damn good job at that.”</p><p>Race couldn’t help but watch the men handle the money. He’d never seen so much money in one place.</p><p>“The fella owed our boss money,” the leader clarified for Race. “So it’s our job to get that money and use whatever means necessary.”</p><p>“Oh,” Race started to walk away from the group. The less time he spent around them, the better.</p><p>“Hey, kid!” The leader held out two five dollar bills. “Your cut.”</p><p>Race snatched the money and nodded his thanks.</p><p>He ran the whole way back to the lodge.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>Race knew what he earned was dirty money. He also knew it wasn’t normal or right for a job to require him to sneak back into the Lodging House at midnight. He’d asked Hannah to go to sleep, to not wait up for him, but he knew the chances of her listening were slim. She had her own mind and stubborn nature and truthfully, that was what Race appreciated so much about her.</p><p>So, when he climbed up and fire exit (like Mush often did after romanic escapades) and snuck his way down the stairs to the living area, he wasn’t surprised to find Hannah waiting by the fireplace. She was reading her Italian songs over, mouthing the words in that focused way that made Race altogether far too weak at the knees.</p><p>Her head shot up at the squeak the last stair made.</p><p>“Racetrack,” she whispered in relief and stood up.</p><p>“I’s told ya not ta wait up,” Race approached her and held out his arms. She fell into them as if it were the easiest and rightest thing in the world.</p><p>“You’re safe,” Hannah said the words more to herself than him.</p><p>“I’s safe,” Race repeated softly and rubbed soothing circles around her back.</p><p>“It wasn’t dangerous?”</p><p>“Nah, it was a breeze. Nothin’ ta worry ‘bout.”</p><p>“I kept thinking of things that could have happened. I kept thinking…” Hannah’s voice trailed off, unable to express the terrible situations she imagined Race in.</p><p>“Shhh,” he guided her head to rest on his chest. “Ya hear dat?”</p><p>“Hmm?”</p><p>“Dat’s a strong, Italian heart beat, doll. I’s ain’t goin’ nowhere.”</p><p>Hannah relaxed slightly and listened closely. She could hear Race’s heart beat, steady and strong and his arms, so warm and around her, proved to her that he was alive. He hadn’t been consumed by fire. He hadn’t wasted away after a hard winter. He was solid and real and there.</p><p>“Nobody noticed anything,” Hannah whispered, her voice muffled against Race’s too-thin coat.</p><p>“Jack?”</p><p>“He suspects something, but he didn’t ask.”</p><p>“Good,” Race pressed a feather light kiss to Hannah’s forehead as she pulled away to look up at him. She shuddered at the contact, but smiled. “Sorry,” Race tucked a wisp of blonde hair behind her ear. “I’s shouldn’a done dat.”</p><p>Hannah shook her head and burrowed her way back into her arms. “No,” she kept her voice so quiet. “You should do that all the time.”</p><p>“Oh,” Race felt his face heat up.</p><p>“I’m just not used to—I’m not expecting these things and…” Hannah looked back up at him in the hopes that her eyes would explain her insecurity.</p><p>Ever the poker player, Race read her perfectly. “You’s don’t gotta apologize for nothin’, doll. Dis is all new ta you and we’s can go as fast or as slow as you’s want.”</p><p>Race lay down on the torn and patched up sofa and made room for Hannah to join him. Hannah fiddled with the hem of her shawl. She wasn’t dressed appropriately, she knew it was highly improper and most likely sinful, but the more time she spent with Race, the less she seemed to care about her family’s rigid constructs. She lay down timidly, her body hardly brushing against Race’s. He waited for her to relax before he placed an arm around her waste to hold her against his chest.</p><p>“Racetrack?”</p><p>“Hmm?”</p><p>“I can’t lose you.” There. She’s said it. Hannah was never one for voicing her fears. In that sense, she could relate to Spot Conlon. She didn’t understand his lack of sympathy or feeling, but she did understand his insistence on independence and strength. Hannah felt incredibly weak after saying the words. She’d meant them, but she never meant for Racetrack to hear them. Racetrack was always to assume that she was brave and strong and healthy and everything she was never able to be for her family.</p><p>Race shifted, trying to keep his distance, but at the same time provide comfort and stability. He propped himself up onto his elbow and looked down at her.</p><p>“I’s ain’t goin’ anywhere, Sweetheart.”</p><p>“But,” Hannah looked into his deep brown eyes and took in a shaky breath. “You’re going out at all hours of the night and nobody knows where and why and I’m <em>scared</em>, Racetrack. I’m <em>scared</em> that one night you’ll just not come home and it’ll be like the night Jenny got caught in the blizzard.”</p><p>“Hey, I’s comin’ home. I’s right here. I’ll always come back for ya and I’s not gettin’ inta any trouble dat I’s can’t get myself out of again. You ain’t gonna lose me, Sweetheart. You’s stuck with me for about as long as you’ll have me,” Race tried to lighten the mood, but fell short. When Hannah didn’t respond, he continued. “Who’s Jenny?”</p><p>“A girl from our school house. There was this horrible blizzard last winter and it went on for days and weeks. It was the worst winter my Pa had ever known,” Hannah spoke, her voice distant. “Where I’m from, a blizzard is dangerous. To you, here in New York, it might be a day inside instead of selling, but to us who live on farmland, it’s tying a rope from the house to the barn so you don’t get lost walking three meters from your home. We had brown bread for weeks and when the train didn’t come in, we had to ration that too. My Ma, she always told us to hold hands leaving the school house, but Jenny wanted to run ahead and tell her Ma about the spelling competition she’d won. I told her to stay close, but I didn’t think she’d get lost…” Hannah looked up at Race and took in another shaky breath. She wasn’t crying; it was like she couldn’t. Like she wouldn’t allow herself. Race pulled her slightly closer, encouraging her to continue. “They found her body two days later, Racetrack,” Hannah said shakily. “Completely frozen and dead to the world.”</p><p>“Sweetheart,” Race placed another kiss to her forehead and was relieved to feel her relax against him. “I’s ain’t gonna disappear. I’s ain’t leavin’ ya.”</p><p>Hannah nodded weakly against his chest. “Okay.”</p><p>“Hey, look,” Race reached into his trouser pocket and pulled out the two five-dollar bills. “Look at what I’s got.”</p><p>“Race what—how? Who?”</p><p>“Got it tonight.”</p><p>“That’s ten dollars,” Hannah looked dumbfounded.</p><p>“Ten dollars dat I’s savin’ an’ not gamblin’ away or spendin’ on horses. Dat’s ten dollars for gettin’ you’s home,” said Race proudly.</p><p>Hannah shifted closer to him in order to gain access to the pocket of her dress. The extra contact made Racetrack bite his lip slightly and hold his breath. God, he had to get a grip on himself. Hannah flushed, well aware of the hypersensitivity they both experienced, and held out a few coins.</p><p>“Dat’s a dollar, Sweetheart!” Race beamed.</p><p>“My first week’s wages,” Hannah smiled back. “I want you to have it.”</p><p>“What?”</p><p>“I need to pay you back for all you’ve done.”</p><p>“No, no, no,” Race refused firmly. “You’s keep your money.”</p><p>“Do I get to do what I want with it?”</p><p>“Of course.”</p><p>“Then I want to go to Sheepshead. I simply adore horses. My family had a pony and two horses and I would love to see a real horse race,” Hannah said. She thought her request was innocent enough. If she made it about herself, maybe he’d say yes. Maybe, for once, she’d be able to do something for him. After all, all she wanted was to see him smile.</p><p>Race didn’t seem convinced. “You’s wanna go ta Sheepshead.”</p><p>“Yes.”</p><p>“An’ you’s really want dat.”</p><p>“Yes,” Hannah said evenly. “And I’d like to help you place a bet.”</p><p>“I’s thought gamblin’ was a sin?”</p><p>“It is, but you can take me to church on Sunday and I’ll ask for forgiveness.”</p><p>“You’s cheeky,” Race grinned. “I’s thought you’s didn’t go ta church.”</p><p>“Of course I do, said Hannah. “What ever would make you think I didn’t?”</p><p>“That day…at ya sista’s funeral. You’s didn’t cross yourself. You’s didn’t pray…” Race gauged her reaction carefully. “I’s sorry for mentioning it.”</p><p>“It’s alright,” Hannah avoided his eyes for a moment. “I’m not Catholic.”</p><p>“Oh…<em>oh!”</em> Race raised his eyebrows in realization.</p><p>“My family is baptist. We go to a baptist church.”</p><p>“Dey pray differently?”</p><p>“Yes, and sing differently too.”</p><p>“Well den,” Race smiled. “You’s jus’ gonna have ta show me dat one day.”</p><p>Hannah’s eyes lit up at this. “I’d love to go to church with you this Sunday, though. I know some of the boys go.”</p><p>“Yeah,” said Race. “It’s cause da nuns help run dis place an’ dey’s like it when we’s show up fa mass. I’s go cause—well— my Mama always used ta take me an’ my Nona went ta mass twice a week.”</p><p>“I understand,” Hannah couldn’t help but yawn.</p><p>“You sleep,” Race tucked her head under his chin. “I’s right here.”</p><p>“Tomorrow,” Hannah stifled another yawn. “Will you take me to Sheepshead?”</p><p>Race grinned in spite of himself. “I’s couldn’t t’ink of a better plan.”</p><p>Hannah fell asleep quickly, warm and safe in Racetrack’s arms and for that moment in time Race allowed himself to revel in a sense of pride and happiness. He’d earned money, was holding the most incredible girl in his arms, and would show her everything his world had to offer. For a moment, he let himself forget how the money was earned.</p><p> </p>
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<a name="section0016"><h2>16. Lucky</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>y'all I am SO SORRY for the wait with this!!<br/>I've been having a really hard time finishing any of my writing. Anxiety keeps telling me it's not good enough yet, so I edit it to death and then re-write it over and over. Anyway, point is, that's why there's a delay with this chapter. <br/>Hope it's worth the wait and that y'all like it! Let me know your thoughts and thank you SO MUCH for reading!!!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p>“Did they sleep here all night?”</p><p>“Dat’s not allowed!”</p><p>“Maybe they’s gettin’ frisky!”</p><p>“Shut <em>up</em>, Mush, dat’s <em>disgusting!</em>”</p><p>“Jus’ cause you’s innocent—“</p><p>“Fella’s quit buggin’ ‘em,” Crutchy’s voice came through the strongest as Race blinked the sleep from his eyes. He’d meant to move Hannah to her bunk room, but he’d somehow fallen asleep next to her, altogether too comfortable and content to think about the consequences. Because while it didn’t particularly bother him to wake up to the boys taunting them, he knew it bothered Hannah. She went from peacefully smiling, still half asleep, to be wide-eyed and horrified in seconds.</p><p>“Heya love boids,” Kid Blink chuckled down at them. Les was standing with his mouth wide open in shock, while his brother, Davey, held him back.</p><p>“Awe cut it out, Blink,” Race groaned. He propped himself up and ran a hand up and down Hannah’s arm soothingly.</p><p>“What’re you two doin’?” Les asked, voice crackling in his awkwardness.</p><p>“Nothin’,” Race answered.</p><p>“Don’t look like nothin’,” said Blink.</p><p>“Come off it, Blink. They’s poifectly innocent,” Mush grinned. “I’s doubt Race even knows how ta do it!”</p><p>“I do to!” Race cried.</p><p>“Oh yeah?”</p><p>“Yeah!”</p><p>“Race,” Crutchie whispered at his side. He nudged him and nodded to Hannah, who had her face buried in her hands.</p><p>“Shit,” Race cursed under his breath and wrapped an arm around Hannah. “Hey, Sweetheart. I’s didn’t mean dat okay? I’s jus’ running my mouth as usual.”</p><p>Mush laughed at this but thankfully lead the boys away to start selling. Crutchie, however, stayed behind.</p><p>“Heya,” Crutchie sat down at the end of the couch. “Da boys can be a little rough ‘round da edges, Sweetheart. Sorry ‘bout dat.”</p><p>Hannah tried to shrug her shoulders. “I understand,” she whispered into her hands.</p><p>“They’s don’t mean nothin’ by it an’ neither does Race.”</p><p>“I know.”</p><p>“We’s don’t think any less of ya just ‘cause ya woke up next ta someone who cares ‘bout ya,” Crutchie put a careful and on Hannah’s knee and squeezed it comfortingly. “You’s still a lady. Just as respectable as before.”</p><p>Hannah peaked out from over her hands and managed a small smile. “Thank you, Crutchie.”</p><p>“Don’ mention it,” said Crutchie. “Jus’… maybe use da attic next time if you’s wanna avoid dis happenin’ again.”</p><p>“We’s have an attic?” Race finally spoke.</p><p>“Sure, you’s jus’ have ta wiggle da door an’ use a knife ta get it unlatched.”</p><p>“And you’s know dis…?”</p><p>“I’s used ta go dere ta read. Found out dat’s where Mush takes some of his goils when he t’inks he’s bein’ real sneaky. I’s wanted ta read a while back an’ got up dere ta find…”</p><p>“Jesus,” Race couldn’t help but laugh. “Bet you’s was blinded.”</p><p>“Couldn’t look at Mush for two days,” said Crutchie. “Anyway, I’s don’t read dere anymore an’ Mush don’t use it no more ‘cause he t’inks I’ll walk in on him again. S’far as I know, nobody else knows how ta get in.”</p><p>Race stored that bit of information away. “Alright.”</p><p>“You’s sellin’ today Race?”</p><p>“Yeah,” Race stretched and Crutchie took that as his cue.</p><p>“I’s betta be off an’ get sellin’ if I’s don’ wanna be out dere at suppa time again.”</p><p>“Let me know if you’s need a hand, Crutch,” said Race.</p><p>Crutchie just flashed his good natured smile and shook his head. “Nah, you’s have a day with Sweetheart after you’s done sellin’.”</p><p>“I’ll make sure to prepare something you boys can heat up,” said Hannah. She’d lifted her head completely and had her hands folded neatly on her lap.</p><p>“Can you’s make those biscuits again?” Crutchie called over his shoulder.</p><p>“I swear, that is <em>all</em> you boys eat!”</p><p>“Hey, dey’s real good!” Crutchie joked. “See you two!”</p><p>Race waved at the boy as Hannah shifted uncomfortably.</p><p>“Oh—Jesus—sorry,” Race jumped up and gave her space to stand.</p><p>“It’s okay, Race.”</p><p>“No, really, I’s sorry. I’s shoulda gone up ta my bunk or taken ya to your room.”</p><p>“It’s okay,” Hannah repeated softly. “You should be on your way.”</p><p>“I’s fine right here, doll. Papes can wait a couple seconds.”</p><p>Hannah shook her head, but kept silent for a moment. When she felt Race’s eyes directly on her, she spoke again. “The boys,” her voice was hardly above a whisper. “Do they think we…”</p><p>“They’s jus’ jokin’, Sweetheart,” said Race. He was trying his best to put her fears at ease.</p><p>“Blink was joking?”</p><p>“Sure.”</p><p>“Were you?”</p><p>“What?” Race stared at her.</p><p>Hannah tried to steady her nerves. “When you said you knew how to…do it. Were you joking then too?”</p><p>“I’s shouldn’t-a said dat,” said Race. “Specially not around you. Look, da boys are jus’ a little rough ‘round the edges, you’s know dat. They’s joke around an’ are damn idiots sometimes.But dey don’t mean no harm. They’d neva think or say a bad thing about ya. Beside, Crutchie’s right, dere ain’t nothin’ wrong with wakin’ up next ta someone who cares ‘bout ya.”</p><p>“Does Blink think we did something?” Hannah wasn’t processing much of what Race was saying. All she could think of was how good it felt to be next to him, but how shameful the morning had made her feel.</p><p>“Maybe at foist he did,” Race said slowly. “But he knows da truth of it now.”</p><p>“What about the others? Are they assuming the same as Blink did? Have they all been with girls before? I’m trying to be alright with this Racetrack, but I never so much as held a boys’ hand before I met you and now I’m waking up next to you for the whole world to see!”</p><p>“Whoah, hey, Sweetheart,” Race saw the embarrassment and shame in her eyes and grabbed hold of her hands to steady her. “We’s didn’t do nothin’ wrong, okay? Trust me, da boys are just jokin’ ‘round. Dey respect ya and don’t think any less of ya. Where you’s come from, it’s different from here. Sure, some of da boys have had their fun here and there.” Hannah couldn’t help but flinch at how casually Racetrack referred to intimate relationships. “All dis will blow ova real soon, just ya see. Now, how ‘bout I’s do me sellin’ an den I’s come pick ya up an’ we’s go ta Sheepshead. How’d dat sound?”</p><p>Hannah looked down at their hands and smiled through her flushed complexion.</p><p>“That sounds lovely.”</p><p>“Alrigh’ den,” Race pecked her on the cheek. He cast her a final, wide, grin and sauntered out the door with a slight spring in his step.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>Hannah stiffened, a kind of ice cold fear seizing her despite every effort to keep calm.</p><p>He had burst through the door and was supporting himself against the doorframe. He looked drunk, though it had to still be from the night before, because the boys had only just come home for lunch.</p><p>Paul Higgens, the person who haunted Racetrack’s nightmares, was less than four feet away from Hannah.</p><p>“Where is he?” Paul shouted, taking an unsteady step into the lodging house.</p><p>Hannah gulped. She had to figure out a way of getting rid of him before Racetrack saw.</p><p>“He’s not here,” Hannah lied shakily.</p><p>“Bullshit! I know the kid lives here!”</p><p>“Please,” Hannah held onto the edge of the counter for support. “You can’t be here.”</p><p>“You can’t tell me where to go,” Paul shuffled his way into the foyer.</p><p>“He’s not here, please—“</p><p>“Sweetheart?” Race came bounding down the stairs. “What’s goin’…”</p><p>“There he is!” Paul sneered with such optimism, it made Hannah’s stomach drop.</p><p>“Get out,” Race gripped the hand railing with white knuckles.</p><p>“Your girl’s been lying to me, boy.”</p><p>“Get out,” Race repeated. It was like he was incapable of forming any other words. Hannah dashed forward to his side and pulled him back into the kitchen in the hopes that they could escape out the back door.</p><p>“You owe me, boy!” Paul raised his voice again. God, Hannah’s eyes darted around the kitchen, where was Kloppmann? Did the man really have to see the nuns at that very moment?</p><p>“He doesn’t owe you anything,” Hannah cried. She grasped Racetrack’s hand and pulled him against her.</p><p>“You think you can get rid of me that easy, kid? You think—“ Paul staggered forward. “You think you can hide away from <em>family?</em>”</p><p>At the word family, Racetrack shuddered and shrunk further into himself.</p><p>“You can’t speak to him like that!”</p><p>“I’ll do whatever I damn well want!” Paul shouted. He tossed a chair aside. It clattered against the hardwood floor, prompting Jack and a handful of the boys to run down to see what all the commotion was about.</p><p>Jack reacted quickly and turned to face Crutchie. “Keep the little’uns in the bunk room,” he murmured. “Mush, make sure none of the others come down here.”</p><p>The pair nodded and ushered the rest of the newsies back up the stairs.</p><p>“Quite the little army of runaways and thieves you have here,” Paul smirked at Race, completely ignoring Jack.</p><p>“Get outta here,” Jack hissed.</p><p>“Not till I get what’s owed to me!”</p><p>“Race don’t owe you nothin’!” Jack cried. The raised voices made Racetrack flinch. Hannah put an arm around him and tried to pull him back, but he seemed frozen.</p><p>“C’mon ya little good-for-nothin’, let’s see ya fight me like a man,” Paul taunted Race mercilessly.</p><p>“Get out!” Jack bellowed.</p><p>“You really are a little pathetic—“</p><p>“Get the <em>fuck</em> out!” Jack lunged forward and pushed Paul back so he staggered against the wall. Jack looked over his shoulder quickly. “Go!” He yelled at Hannah. “Get him outta here.”</p><p>Hannah didn’t need to be told twice. With Jack willing to fight Paul, she could get Race out. She pulled at his arm.</p><p>“I’s not leavin’ him,” Race muttered.</p><p>“Race, <em>please.”</em></p><p><em> “</em>He’s my brother.”</p><p>“He’ll be fine, Race, we need to go!” Hannah managed to pull him towards the door. It wasn’t until Race saw Jack land the first punch to his father’s face, that he followed Hannah out the door.Once they’d run clear of the lodging house, Race pressed his back against an alley wall and took Hannah with him. Hannah had ran her hands up and down Racetrack’s arms as she kept checking to see if they’d been followed.</p><p>“Jack,” Race managed the name between panting breaths.</p><p>“He’ll be fine, Racetrack. He’s a born fighter, you know that.”</p><p>“But my ol’ man…”</p><p>Hannah waited for his eyes to follow her hand before she carefully placed it on his cheek. “If anybody can take care of things, it’s Cowboy.”</p><p>When Racetrack didn’t respond, Hannah could think of only one place to go. Because walking all the way to Brooklyn seemed unimaginable and unthinkable, given Race could hardly support himself.</p><p>Hannah managed to lead them over to the theatre, knocking on the side entrance with such vigour, it almost frightened her.</p><p>Miss Medda opened the door, wide eyed and dressed in a vivid pink dressing gown.</p><p>Race stared up at her. His eyes were neither sad nor lost, they were completely devoid of anything.</p><p>“Racetrack,” Medda said his full nickname gently and opened the door so both Hannah and him could slip by her. “What happened, baby?”</p><p>“Paul, his fa—“ Hannah stopped short of saying the word <em>father</em>. It didn’t seem right.</p><p>“My ol’ man,” Race was still trying to catch his breath.</p><p>“Bastard,” Medda cursed confidently. She helped Hannah lead the newsie over to her dressing room. She set them down on her slightly warn, but plush, sofa and handed them each a small mug. “Hot apple cider,” she watched the pair carefully as they sipped.</p><p>“Thank you,” Hannah whispered.She then turned to Race and put a hand over his in an attempt to keep them from trembling. “I’m sure he’s fine, Race. You know Cowboy.”</p><p>“S’all my doing,” Race stared down at his mug.</p><p>Miss Medda crouched down in front of the pair and put her hands on Race’s knees. “Now you see here, Racetrack. You are a lot of things, but you are <em>not</em> guilty of the mess that man has brought on your life. None of this is your fault and you did not, for a second, deserve any of it.”</p><p>Hannah watched Racetrack’s reaction carefully. She knew all too well what it was like to try and ignore the voices of people who were supposed to love you.</p><p>“You are <em>good</em>, Racetrack,” Hannah said gently, but Racetrack was unresponsive. He’d heard her, but he didn’t agree. He wasn’t a good person. Good people didn’t have drunk fathers who gambled their wives into early graves. Racetrack thought of the jobs he had done for money; jobs that reminded all too much of his father’s work. The only difference was, Race was capable of saving the money. It was too easy to convince himself that he wasn’t all that different from his father. He shuddered.</p><p>“Baby,” Miss Medda pulled Race into a hug as Hannah rubbed his back. “You really need to catch a break, huh? You boys go through too damn much.”</p><p>Medda continued whispering words of comfort into Racetrack’s ear. She took hold of Hannah’s hand and gave it a tight squeeze. This lasted for a long, heavy, moment, until Jack came bursting through the door.</p><p>“He’s gone!” Jack panted. He’d run the whole way there and Race was relieved to see hardly any bruises on him. His father had been too drunk to put up much of a fight.</p><p>“Gone?” Medda asked first.</p><p>“Bulls took ‘em away. He’s lock up, Race. He’s gone for good,” Jack was smiling broadly, a true shining light of optimism in the shadows of the room.</p><p>“He’s…gone?” Race hesitated and pulled back from Medda and Hannah’s care. H needed to hear it again.</p><p>“Bulls got ‘em on a bunch-a charges. He ain’t gonna come for ya no more.”</p><p>“Jail,” Race ran a hand over his face. He wasn’t sure if he’d been crying, so he wanted to wipe away any evidence just in case.</p><p>“Yeah, pal. Jail. He’s gone.”</p><p> </p><p>“He’s gone,” Race repeated the words again.</p><p>And then, much to the surprise of Hannah, and to the great relief of Medda, Race jumped up and tackled Jack in a bear hug.</p><p>Jack responded with just as much enthusiasm. He could feel his best friend shaking, either from relief or shock, he wasn’t sure.</p><p>“Easy there, pal,” Jack chuckled. “You’s okay.”</p><p>Race didn’t respond verbally. He was too overcome with gratitude and still a little guilt, to form words.</p><p>“Can I get you a cider, Jack?” Medda asked, once the boys had pulled away from each other.</p><p>“Nah,” Jack adjusted his cap. “I’s betta be off. Gotta sell da afternoon edition an’ all.”</p><p>“I’s comin’ with ya,” said Race.</p><p>“You’s sure?”</p><p>“Hawkin’ headlines always does da trick,” Race looked up at his friend. “Besides, I’s told Sweetheart we’s goin’ ta Sheepshead later.”</p><p>“Dat so?”</p><p>“I’ve never been to a horserace before,” said Hannah. “I’d love to go.”</p><p>“Well den, you’s got da best tour guid in New York,” Jack put a hand on Race’s shoulder.</p><p>Hannah smiled timidly. “Yes, I believe I do.”</p><p>“We’s betta be off,” Race flashed Hannah a small smile and reached to kiss her hand. “I’s be back ‘round four?”</p><p>“That’s fine.”</p><p>The two newsies left, the one blushing slightly and the other chuckling under his breath.</p><p>Miss Medda turned to face Hannah. “You’re a brave girl, Sweetheart.”</p><p>“I wouldn’t say that,” said Hannah sheepishly.</p><p>“I will keep saying it until you believe it, my shining star. I’ve never seen that boy as happy as when he’s with or talks about you. You are the best thing to happen to him in a very long time.”</p><p>“I just want him to be happy.”</p><p>“You make him happy,” said Miss Medda. “His face while you sing? It’s like he’s seeing an angel. Which reminds me,” she checked a book by her dresser. “Would you like to sing again tomorrow?”</p><p>“I could sing Love Is a Plaintive Song?” Hannah had been practicing it from the book she and Racetrack had bought.</p><p>“Perfect!” Medda beamed. “Tomorrow night then?”</p><p>Hannah allowed the woman to embrace her as she nodded. She had never felt so accepted and supported in all her life.</p><p> </p><p>***</p><p> </p><p>Sheepshead races was, as Hannah had suspected, loud and dusty. The air was thick with billows of dirt and dust from the tracks and stables. The boxes were covered in a fine layer of it as well, and the shouts from various clusters of people made Hannah jump. But Racetrack looked so happy, so proud to show her around, she instantly decided Sheepshead was one of her favourite places as well. The smell of the horses and hay alone, reminded her of home and the freedom she felt when she rode a horse through the never ending prairies.</p><p>They’d spent five cents on two hotdogs, something Hannah had never had before and enjoyed far too much. They broke a stick of chewing gum in half and shared it and decided to spend twenty five cents on a bet. They’d save the rest the money.</p><p>“So?” Race lead her up to a box. “Whaddya t’ink?</p><p>“It’s so exciting,” Hannah said as her eyes tried to take everything in. “I’ve never seen anything like it.”</p><p>“It’s kinda da best t’ing eva. Next ta you’s, dat is,” he winked. Hannah flushed and watched the horses begin to line up. She spotted a lean, black, horse near the end.</p><p>“That one’s lovely,” she pointed.</p><p>“You’s wanna bet on her? Her name’s Spirit.”</p><p>“Has she won before?”</p><p>“Only seen her once or twice. Almost won last week.”</p><p>“I think she could win today,” Hannah looked at the horse’s build next the bulkier ones it stood next to.</p><p>Race handed Hannah a few coins. “You’s wanna place da bet?”</p><p>“Truly?” Hannah’s eyes lit up.</p><p>“Nothin’ would make me happier,” Race turned them around to face the young man taking in bets behind them.</p><p>“Twenty-five cents on Spirit, please,” Hannah said and held the coins out.</p><p>The young man shifted uncomfortably for a moment. “M’afraid I can’t accept bets from ladies, Miss.”</p><p>“What?” Race raised an eyebrow.</p><p>“My money is just as good as anybody else’s,” Hannah kept her arm extended.</p><p>“C’mon Henry,” Race muttered.</p><p>There was a lengthy pause where Hannah stood her ground and Race became increasingly proud of her. He knew Henry; he’d placed bets with him for over two years, but he didn’t know if their acquaintance would extend beyond the tracks and to woman’s suffrage.</p><p>“Alright, then,” Henry snatched the money from Hannah. “Good luck ta ya both.”</p><p>“Thanks Henry,” Race tipped his hat.</p><p>Hannah nodded her thanks as well and accepted the small slip of paper from Henry.</p><p>The starters pistol sounded as the pair turned to face the tracks again.</p><p>Instantly, Race was up on his feet, dragging Hannah up with him. He was shouting and hollering and holding Hannah’s hand almost too tight, but she didn’t notice. Hannah smiled from ear to ear as the horses bound forward, Spirit lagging only slightly behind.</p><p>“C’mon Spirit!” Race cried. “C’mon girl!”</p><p>As if hearing the boy yell, the horse slowly pressed on forward. Taking over each horse one by one until it was neck and neck with a horse named Quickshot.</p><p>Hannah held her breath. Racetrack yelled a string of unacceptable words and then—</p><p>“We won!” Race exclaimed and embraced Hannah so fiercely, he lifted her off the ground.</p><p>“I’m your hot tip,” Hannah felt herself flirting in spite of herself.</p><p>“Damn rights.”</p><p>“<em>Race</em>,” Hannah shushed him as he put her down.</p><p>“What? We won, Sweetheart! We actually won!” Race didn’t even check if anyone was watching. He cupped Hannah’s face with his hands and leaned down to plant a short kiss to her lips.</p><p>Hannah jumped slightly in shock, but didn’t pull away. She placed her hands on Race’s shoulders and kissed him back. Then she pulled away a breath and smiled up at him.</p><p>“You’s da most incredible goil, ya know dat?” Race stroked her cheek with his thumb.</p><p>“And you,” Hannah reached up and placed a light kiss to his cheek. “Are the bravest boy I have ever known.”</p><p>Race leaned in to kiss her again, but stopped when Henry approached them.</p><p>“Well you two,” the young man chuckled. “Ya lucked out big time.”</p><p>“Pardon?” Hannah asked as Henry handed her a small white envelope.</p><p>“Ten dollars.”</p><p>“Ten d—what?” Race gaped.</p><p>“I’ll see ya ‘round Race!” Henry waved at the pair and ran off.</p><p>Hannah turned to face the newsie and handed him the envelope.</p><p>“You don’t have to do those jobs anymore now.”</p><p>“An’ I’s can take ya home,” Race couldn’t stop smiling.</p><p>Hannah didn’t know how to respond. Race embraced her again and kissed the top of her head. Maybe he was catching his lucky break.</p>
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<a name="section0017"><h2>17. Run</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I am sooooOooOo SOooorRy for taking so long with this !!! <br/>I wanted to make sure this chapter came out just right, cause things really start to pick up here. <br/>Let me know what y'all think and if you like where this is headed! I'm also hoping to delve more into Spot's role and Diamond's character in the next few chapters. <br/>Thank you all for your love and support!! xoxo</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>When Race and Sweetheart entered the lodging house again, it was just before their curfew. They’d spent the rest of the day walking around New York, Racetrack showing her Brooklyn Bridge and some of his favourite selling spots. When they finally opened the door to the lodging house, they were bone tired, but couldn’t wipe the smiles from their faces. Race held the door open for Sweetheart and was about to follow her inside, when he felt a tug on the arm of his coat. He whipped his head around and nearly jumped out of his skin. Blade was standing not two feet away, almost completely hidden in the shadows.</p><p>Race looked back in the lodging house and at Hannah, who was waiting for him.</p><p>“I’s—uh—be right dere, Sweetheart. I’s just gonna have a smoke.”</p><p>Sweetheart nodded and made her way over to her room. Once she was out of sight, Race closed the door and face Blade.</p><p>“S’a nice night ain’t it, Higgens?”</p><p>“Suppose so.”</p><p>“Have a good day sellin’?” Blade’s expression was, for the most part, hidden in the shadows, but Race could tell he was smirking.</p><p>“Cut the crap, why you’s here?” Race wasn’t in the mood for chit chat. He didn’t like that Blade was showing up unannounced and he <em>really</em> didn’t like that it wasn’t at their usual meeting place. This felt, quite literally, too close to home.</p><p>“So much for the pleasantries,” Blade leaned against the brick wall.</p><p>“Whaddya want?”</p><p>“I’s got a job for ya.”</p><p>“I’s don’t need it,” Race said confidently. He didn’t need the money or the jobs anymore. Not after their winnings and the couple pennies he’d saved on the side.</p><p>“That so?”</p><p>“Yeah.”</p><p>“What about your goil?”</p><p>“She ain’t my goil,” Race tried to keep his calm.</p><p>Blade rolled his eyes. “Sure thing, kid.”</p><p>“She ain’t.”</p><p>“She’ll want a place of her own, mark my woids, Higgens. Hell, she’ll probably wanna get married too. An where are you’s gonna get money for a ring?”</p><p>“I’s savin’,” Race tried. He wasn’t dumb; he knew the game Blade was playing. He was trying to lower Race’s confidence, make him feel inferior, so that he’d do his bidding. Race knew that was Blade’s plan, but it didn’t make hearing his words any easier.</p><p>“Where are you’s plannin’ ta go when ya age outta this place, huh? Dat eva occurred ta ya? Cowboy ain’t gonna make you’s leader, dat’s for sure. Dat kid with da crutch is gonna take ova and you’s know it. So where does that leave you, huh? Woikin’ at the docks for pennies, dat’s where. Scrapin’ tagetha jus’ enough money ta pay rent for tenement housing,” Blade handed Race a cigarette. “Do the job, Race. It’s good money. Ten clams. You’s can buy an awful nice piece a’ jewelry at a pawn shop for dat money.”</p><p>“I’s don’t need da money,” said Race.</p><p>“Coise ya do,” Blade countered swiftly. “Everyone wants more money. If they’s sayin’ otherwise, they’s lyin’.”</p><p>“I’s got enough money, Blade.”</p><p>“Bullshit,” Blade tossed the end of his cigarette away. “Do the job, Higgens. If you’s ain’t gonna do it for da money, do it for ya own good. I’s don’t wanna half ta… persuade ya ta do it.”</p><p>“I’s don’t need da job,” Race could feel his hand shaking, but his voice remained calm. That was, until Blade grabbed him by the collar of his shirt.</p><p>“I don’t think you’s understand why I’s sayin’, kid,” Blade hissed. “You’s don’t have a choice. You’s either do this job or I’s gotta make ya do it.”</p><p>“But I—“</p><p>“I don’t care if you’s need da money or not an’ you can bet your ass Joe doesn’t give a damn either. He just wants da job done.”</p><p>Race’s heart was pounding. Blade’s eyes were burning into his confidence.</p><p>“Dis is da last one,” Race squirmed out of the Bronx newsies’ grip and adjusted his collar.</p><p>“I’s ain’t gonna be da one ta tell Joe dat. You’s want out, you’s deal with it.”</p><p>“Dis is your game, you’s play it.”</p><p>“I ain’t da one dealin’ da cards,” Blade countered swiftly.</p><p>The two were silent for a beat, gauging each other’s reactions carefully.</p><p>“What do I’s need ta do?” Race finally asked quietly.</p><p>“You’s gonna meet a fella on da corner of Bandits Roost at eight tomorrow night. He knows who ta look for.”</p><p>“Okay.”</p><p>“I’s don’t know no more,” Blade said honestly. Race swore he could hear a slight hint of sympathy in his voice. He wanted to ask more, but Blade strode away into the night, leaving Racetrack shaken and completely lost.</p><p>Race took a few deep breath in an effort to calm himself down. He’d only been out for a smoke. Usually smoking calmed him down. Now he was warn, as Hannah had said once, tighter than a fiddle string. He couldn’t go back inside and let Hannah, the girl he’d seen do nothing but smile all day, see through his lies. Race kept trying to tell himself that he wasn’t lying; he was just keeping harmful details from her. Hannah had enough to worry about, what with them going to see her family soon, he didn’t want her worrying about his life too.</p><p>Racetrack entered the lodge just as Klopmann was about to lock up.</p><p>“Sorry,” he muttered.</p><p>Klopmann raised an eyebrow. “Careful, Racetrack. Whatever it is you’re up to.”</p><p>“Ain’t up ta nothin’,” Race lied lazily. “I’s gonna see Sweetheart now.”</p><p>Klopmann simply nodded and watched the boy drag his heals over to Hannah’s bunk room.</p><p>“Heya,” Race knocked on the door gently.</p><p>Hannah opened the door slowly and wrapped her shawl around herself tightly. “Are the boys…?”</p><p>“Everyone’s in bed,” Race answered quietly. Hannah opened the door all the way.</p><p>“I had a wonderful time today, Racetrack.”</p><p>“Yeah, me too.”</p><p>“Are you alright?” Hannah noticed Race’s tight jaw and fidgeting fingers.</p><p>“Fine!” Race answered quickly. “Ya know me, I’s jus’ got some noivous energy.”</p><p>Hannah looked down at the floor. “Okay.”</p><p>“I’s can go, if you’s don’t need me ‘round tonight,” Race said slowly, fearing Hannah’s answer. He’d grown accustomed to sleeping next to her bunk. Truth be told, they as much kept his nightmares at bay as they did keep hers away.</p><p>“If you’d rather go back to sleeping upstairs, I understand. It’s probably best that you do, anyway.”</p><p>“Right,” Race answered and swallowed his disappointment. Of course, Hannah was a good girl; it wasn’t right for him to sleep in the same room as her, let alone hold her hand as they fell asleep. Sometimes he forgot how different his world was from hers. They were both poor, but she was decent and wholesome.</p><p>“Suppose this is goodnight, then,” Hannah glanced up at Race, only to look back down at the floor again.</p><p>“Suppose it is,” Race reached forward to take her hand. He kissed it lightly and let it drop. “I had da best day today, Sweetheart, I’s jus’ wanted you’s ta know dat. An I’s gettin’ dose tickets for you’s ta go home tomorra.”</p><p>“You really don’t have to.”</p><p>“Just let me do dis for you’s.”</p><p>Hannah took a step back into her room. “You really are too good for me Racetrack Higgens,” she whispered and then closed the door. Hannah stared at the door she’d just closed and tried to rationalize all the questions and worries spinning around in her brain.</p><p>She’d never known anyone to be as kind and generous as Race. He was doing all these things for her, helping her get her footing, without ever asking for anything in return. He accepted her rigid upbringing and naïvety. He was a constant ray of sunshine and light and Hannah wanted to trust him completely. She wanted to kiss him and let him hold her, but yet, something was stopping her. And she knew it wasn’t just the fact that she hadn’t smelled any trace of cigarette or cigar smoke on him.</p><p> </p><p>Race tossed and turned. So much so that Mush had to toss his hand down twice to knock his bunk and tell him to stop. Mush had asked what was wrong, but Race, having spent a few too many days in Brooklyn, didn’t want to talk. All the boys were asleep and Race just stared at the top bunk. His job was at eight-o-clock the next night and Hannah was singing at eight-thirty. He could make it work. He just hated himself for lying and for keeping things from a girl who had done nothing but trust and be there for him. Even in the face of his father, Hannah stayed by his side and held him up.</p><p>Race nearly jumped out of his skin when he heardthe bunk room door open and a floor board squeak.</p><p>“Who’s dat?” Race whispered into the darkness.</p><p>“Race?” A soft voice replied. <em>Hannah</em>, Race sat up in his bunk and swung his feet over.</p><p>“Yeah?” When he didn’t hear a reply, he stood up and wrapped himself up with his blanket. The lodge was leaking cold air from the crisp November night outside. He waited for a moment for Hannah to reply and when she didn’t, he shuffled his way over to the doorway where she stood. “Hey, I’s up,” He tried to read her expression in the dark, but she had her head bowed. He could tell she was shaking ever so slightly, though.</p><p>“D-did I wake you? I’m—I’m so sorry if I woke you.”</p><p>“No, no, don’t be sorry, ” Race assured her quietly. “Wha S’matta?”</p><p>Hannah’s grip on her shawl tightened. She hated being dependent on anyone or anything. “I…” her voice trailed off in shame. “I can’t sleep.”</p><p>“Hey,” Race lead her out into the hallway and closed the door behind him. “Don’t cha worry, doll. I’s can’t sleep neitha.”</p><p>“Really?” Hannah didn’t mean for her question to sound so relieved.</p><p>“Yeah, Mush had ta tell me ta stop movin’ around so much.”</p><p>“Oh.”</p><p>“Ya didn’t wake me, Sweetheart. I’s already up.”</p><p>“Okay,” Hannah couldn’t seem to formulate more words. She was too filled with shame. What kind of girl went knocking on a boys’ door for comfort? Surly not the kind of girl her Ma had raised.</p><p>Racetrack noticed her guilt ridden body language in the soft light coming from the kerosene hallway lamp.</p><p>“You’s want me ta come to ya room?” Race heard a sharp intake of breath, but no reply. So he tried again. “Alright, how ‘bout we’s sit by da fireplace a bit? I’s promise I won’t let ya fall asleep this time.”</p><p>At this Hannah nodded and the pair shuffled their way downstairs and to the couch. Race sat down first (yes, sitting was much safer than lying down, he realized) and gestured for Hannah to join him. He pulled his blanket so they could share it and glanced over at her, waiting for her to say something. She didn’t. Race opened his hand in offering and nudged her shoulder playfully. He breathed a small sigh of relief when she placed her small hand in his callused and ink stained one.</p><p>“I know you don’t know like it when I say it,” Hannah said so softly Race almost couldn’t hear her. “But I’m sorry.”</p><p>Race subtly shook his head. “Ain’t nothin’ ta be sorry ‘bout.”</p><p>“Of course there is,” said Hannah. “You should be asleep in your own bunk room and get your rest so you can sell tomorrow.”</p><p>“An’ you’s stood by me while my ol’ man paid us a visit,” Race shuddered slightly at the all-too-raw memory. “Let’s jus’ call it even. Besides, afta seein’ Paul again, I’s don’t t’ink I’s sleepin’ too good tonight anyway. You’s didn’t desoive ta see dat part of my life.”</p><p>Hannah squeezed his hand and looked up at him. “That part of your life is over.”</p><p>“Guess so,” Race realized. Sure, with his father locked up, he’d be gone physically, but mentally, he’d always be there. Scars ran deep in the lodging house. Night terrors were all too common. Jack would often wake up, screaming so loud his voice was raw, and sweating buckets. It was all Race could do to get him to breath again and tell him where he was. Jack’s memories of the refuge were just as vivid and endless as Racetrack’s catalogue of childhood trauma. Race knew full well that his nightmares and skittishness wouldn’t disappear overnight just because Paul was in jail.</p><p>“I’m scared,” Hannah whispered as Race put an arm around her. “I want to go home but—“ her voice caught in her throat. No, she wouldn’t cry. Big girls didn’t cry. She was far too old to cry. So she just swallowed hard bit back her tears.</p><p>“You’s don’t have to tell me nothin’ you’s don’t want ta,” Race murmured into her hair. She rested her head on his shoulder.</p><p>“You’ve told me about Paul. You deserve to know what lies ahead for you. My Ma and Pa, they’re good people, they work hard and they always made sure we were clothed and fed,” said Hannah. Racetrack placed a delicate kiss to her forehead and waited for her to continue. “I’m just scared for you to come along. I know you won’t let me go alone, but I wish you would. I’m scared my family will say awful things to you. That they’ll judge you without knowing you. For all that they’re Christian, they’ll terribly unforgiving and rigid in their ways.”</p><p>“Sweetheart,” Race stroked her arm soothingly. “I’s dealt with all kinds of woids before. I’s can handle a few more.”</p><p>“No!” Hannah exclaimed, though she tried to keep her voice low. “You don’t deserve that! My Ma and Pa will scold me for having a boy with me, they’ll hate me for losing Julia, and they won’t listen to a word I say.”</p><p>“Okay, listen,” Race whispered in her ear. “I’s still comin’ with ya. An’ I’s don’t care what dey say ta me. An if dey don’t listen ta ya, I’ll make ‘em. I’ll stand up for ya, Sweetheart. You an’ me, we’s take care of each other, right?”</p><p>“Right.”</p><p>“S’gonna be okay,” Race shushed her gently. “I’ll talk ta Miss Medda. Get me manners up ta scratch.”</p><p>Hannah chuckled weakly, but smiled at the thought of Racetrack being taught good manners by her mentor.</p><p>“Race?”</p><p>“Hmm?”</p><p>“You’ll be there tomorrow, right?”</p><p>“Course,” Race said. God, he had to tell her something. The guilt was eating him alive. “I’s got a job ta do before hand, but I’s run da whole way back an’ see ya.”</p><p>“Another job? But I thought…?”</p><p>“One last one, doll. It ain’t nothin’ ta worry ‘bout.”</p><p>Hannah knew the lack of cigarette smoke had meant something. But Race’s warm arms and words comforted her so much, she chose to overlook it. “You’ll be safe?”</p><p>“I always am,” Race said smoothly. That part wasn’t a lie. Though the jobs had been far from safe, he himself had always ended up safe.</p><p>“You mean so much to me, Racetrack.”</p><p>He embraced her fully, letting her head rest against his chest. “You’s mean da woild ta me.”</p><p>They did manage to creep back into Hannah’s room before they fell asleep. Both separately, despite Hannah offering to share her bunk with Race, but still together.</p><p> </p><p>***</p><p> </p><p>Race waited at the corner of Bandits Roost and fiddled with the cigar between his fingers. He’d arrived early, he knew that, but he kept checking his pocket watch in nervous anticipation. At three minutes to eight a young man, maybe two of three years older than Race, approached him.</p><p>He held his hand out to the newsies, but didn’t spit into it.</p><p>“Higgens?”</p><p>“Yeah,” Race shook the man’s hand.</p><p>“I’m Frank,” he paused to finish his cigarette. “I hear you’ve been doing some mighty impressive work.”</p><p>“Just some odd jobs here an’ dere,” said Race.</p><p>“Joe thinks you’re a real asset. This job right here,” Frank gestured down the lane. “It could put you on the map.”</p><p>“How ‘bout you’s tell me what I’s gotta do? Den we’s talk.”</p><p>Frank popped the collar of his jacket. “Cool it, Higgens,” he warned. “Let’s take a walk.”</p><p>Racetrack followed Frank to the top of Mulberry street. They stopped just as the distillery Race had visited a few days before came into sight.</p><p>“I’s here before,” Race glanced up at Frank.</p><p>“Ya, Joe told me you had a chat with the fella who runs the joint.”</p><p>“Only a couple woids.”</p><p>“Well, you’re gonna do some more talkin’,” Frank positioned himself behind a few crates.</p><p>Race stared down at Frank, who was now almost completely hidden. “I’s jus’ need ta talk to ‘em?”</p><p>Frank sighed in annoyance. “Just get hime outside so I can get a clean shot.”</p><p>“<em>What?</em>” Race felt sick to his stomach. He was a ploy?</p><p>“Boss said no misses, no fuck ups, so that’s why he asked for you to tag along.”</p><p>“You’s want me ta—” Race couldn’t continue. He felt like he could hardly breath. “I’s won’t. No way am I doin’ dat.”</p><p>“For Christ’s sake, kid, just get the fuckin’ guy to come outside and bam, job’s done. Easy.”</p><p>“I ain’t helpin’ nobody kill a man.”</p><p>“Listen Higgens, you don’t really got much of a choice here.”</p><p>Race swayed on the spot, both nauseous and dizzy. “Fine,” he tried to sound confident. “I’s on it.”</p><p>He didn’t have a plan. He had an idea, but no idea how he would execute it. He had to think fast, act quick, and hope he’d survive the next few seconds of his life.</p><p>Racetrack knocked on the door in what he hoped was a confident manner. A different man, this one short and stalkier, answered the door.</p><p>“What do ya want?” </p><p>“I’s here ta see Jim.”</p><p>“Jim?” The man chuckled. “Jim’s busy at the minute.”</p><p>“It can’t wait,” Race said evenly. “I’s here on business.”</p><p>“Well then,” the man closed the door and called for Jim. A few moment later, the door opened and Racetrack made his move.</p><p>“Wait!” Race hissed, before Jim could take a step out of the building. “Don’t move.”</p><p>“The hell are you—“</p><p>“Stay inside. Don’t—dont’ come out.”</p><p>Jim blinked at Race and saw the terror in his eyes. Jesus, the poor kid had <em>no </em>idea what he’d gotten into.</p><p>“Get inside, kid,” Jim pulled Race by the sleeve of his jacket and slammed the door shut.</p><p>“I’s not doin’ it,” Race panted. “Joe told Blade I’s supposed ta do dis, but I ain’t. I’s can’t go through with it an’ now dis fella’s out dere waitin’ for me ta bring you’s out an’ I’s ain’t got a plan.”</p><p>“You did good, kid.”</p><p>“He’s still out dere.”</p><p>“So Joe went an’ ordered a hit on me, huh?” Jim seemed unfazed. “Well that’s not very good for my business, I can’t tell you that. Who’s the fella he got ta whack me?”</p><p>“Frank somethin’ or other,” Race tried to catch his breath.</p><p>“Frank Rossi,” Jim put a hand on Race’s shoulder. “Calm down, kid. Frank’s one of Joe’s new hires. He’s pretty good, but he ain’t all that great either. Where’s he hiding?”</p><p>“Behind da crates right by da pawn shop. I’s was supposed ta get you’s ta stand outside.”</p><p>“Sure, sure, he’d get a clear shot from where he is,” Jim said as he walked over to an open window near the door. “But I’ve got a clear shot too. C’mon over here, Racetrack Higgens. Let me show you how it’s done. Ya see, this game isn’t about power or pride, it’s about being one step ahead. Being smart. You’ve always gotta be one step ahead of the other guy.”</p><p>“Okay…” Race held his breath. Jim took a pistol out of the inside of his vest and aimed it out the window.</p><p>“Which crate did you say?”</p><p>Race’s heart pounded. “I—uh— da second one.”</p><p>“Perfect.”</p><p>“Hey,” Race tried to stop Jim. “You’s really have ta do dis?”</p><p>“It’s either him or me, kid. And frankly, if that fella’s workin’ for Joe, he’ll be dead before next week anyway,” said Jim.</p><p>Race didn’t know what to say. He wanted to cover his eyes and scream, but he knew better. He wasn’t a kid anymore and he’d grown up on the streets. He was street smart and savvy, but he’d never witnessed a murder, let alone facilitate one. Jim pointed and aimed his pistol all too casually and with one <em>bang</em> it was over. Race heard a few passers-by scream and a woman cry out for help. Obviously Jim had succeeded.</p><p>“Did you…?”</p><p>“All part of the business, kid,” Jim turned to face Race. “You better get outta here. Take the back door and lay low for a bit.”</p><p>Race nodded quickly and ran across the distillery to the back exit. And because he was a Manhattan newsie, and Manhattan newsies were known for their loyalty and kindness, he looked over his shoulder at Jim.</p><p>“Thanks!” He called across the room.</p><p>And when Jim chuckled and shook his head, Race ran out the door.</p><p>He checked his pocked watch as he ran: eight thirty-three. He’d missed it. He’d missed Hannah singing and there was absolutely nothing he could do to make up for that. He’d promised her that he’d be there and now she was performing, singing on stage and looking for him, only to find an empty seat and band of panicked newsies.</p><p>Racetrack wanted to collapse on the street and cry out. He wanted to punch himself and kick himself for getting involved in something that he knew very little about. He should have listened to Jack. For all that Race was clever, Jack always knew best. There was a reason why he was their leader.</p><p>But Race didn’t collapse on the street; he kept running. Because he had to be there for Hannah. Maybe he’d catch the tail end of her performance. Maybe Miss Medda was running late and Hannah would perform later. He kept running in the hopes that maybe, just maybe, he’d be able to patch things up.</p><p>When he reached the theatre, it was full to bursting with the regular patrons. Race panted, the stitch in his side like a knife to his gut, and looked up at the stage. Hannah was singing (a song he’d heard her practicing when she thought he was busy playing cards) and while it was the end of the song, Racetrack still felt himself forget everything for a blissful moment. Their eyes met and Race had to almost hold back tears when he saw her smile reach her eyes. She finished the song, took a timid bow, but kept her eyes on Race. He clapped enthusiastically and let out an outrageous <em>that’s my goil</em> from his place at the back of the hall. The gesture made Hannah blush. She left the stage and didn’t both to wait for Race to find her by the changing room door. She ran through the crowd and ignored any and all compliments. She heard Jack shout <em>hold up</em> but didn’t think twice about stopping. She needed to see Race. She needed to feel him and know he was alright. She knew whatever had kept him had been completely out of his control. She knew him well enough to know that he was a good man. He wouldn’t ever do anything to knowingly hurt her, would he? She didn’t have time to answer her own question because she spotted him running towards her and hoisted her skirts up so she could run faster. Oh, if her Ma could see her now; just the picture of indecency and unbecoming behaviour.</p><p>They collided messily, all limbs and lack of self control. Race embraced her so fiercely, he lifted her off the ground. His arms were around her completely and his head was buried in her lavender scented hair.</p><p>“M’ so sorry,” he mumbled against her neck. His breath tickled her ear and the sensation made Hannah shiver slightly.</p><p>“It’s alright,” she put a hand in his hair, grounding herself. “You’re here now and that’s all that matters.”</p><p>“But I’s not dere before.”</p><p>“I understand.”</p><p>“I’s promised.”</p><p>“Racetrack, I <em>understand,</em>” Hannah ran a hand through his hair soothingly.</p><p>“You’s shouldn’t. You’s should be mad at me. Kick me to da curb. You’s—mmmmpf—“</p><p>Hannah’s lips pressed against his own with such vigour, he had no time to register what was happening. One moment he was running and explaining himself and the next Hannah was kissing him with a passion he’d never known in his entire life. She pulled back quickly, as if realizing where they were, and stared up at him.</p><p>“S-sorry,” Hannah felt her face heat up. “That was so improper.”</p><p>“I’s not complainin’,” Race winked at her playfully. He kept his arms wrapped around her and noticed just how thin she was. The dress she wore was a too-big and hid the jagged bones and edges of her frame. He could feel her ribs and the sensation made his throat clench. He knew she’d been giving some of the younger boys more food, her excuse always that they were growing and needed it more than her, but he hadn’t realized just how serious her situation was. She needed more than bread and watered-down soup. She’d gone through years of malnourishment and she needed a full meal. He’d talk to her about it later, when they were alone.</p><p>“Race,” Hannah said his shortened name and caught his attention again. “Race, I’m not mad. I’m worried,” she clarified softly.</p><p>“But I’s hurt you. I’s made a promise and I’s didn’t keep it.”</p><p>“Listen to me Racetrack Higgens,” Hannah looked into his eyes. “All I care about is that it’s over. You’re safe and you’re here and you’re not going back again.”</p><p>“Yeah,” Race breathed a small sigh of relief. He had said he wasn’t going to do another job and while he doubted that his words would be accepted without a hitch, he still felt his muscles relax a little.</p><p>“Race?”</p><p>“Yeah?”</p><p>“Don’t you know him?” Hannah looked over the newsie’s shoulder. Race quickly turned around, but kept her behind him and out of site. Blade strode over to the pair faster than Race’s brain could process.</p><p>“Get in the dressing room,” Race hissed at Hannah.</p><p>“Race, no! I’m not leaving you to deal with this alone!”</p><p>“Damnit, Sweetheart, go!” Race whipped around to face her. He pushed her into the crowed. She met his eyes, so wild and filled with fear, and backed away in the direction of the dressing room.</p><p>“You’ll come find me?” She tried to mouth the words. Race nodded jerkily and turned back to a quickly approaching Blade.</p><p>“You’s got some kinda nerve, kid,” Blade hissed.</p><p>“I’s out, Blade. I’s told ya b’fore. I’s ain’t doin’ no more jobs.”</p><p>“You’s don’t have a God damn choice, Higgens. You’s got about ten fellas huntin’ you’s down right now an’ s’far as I know, dere ain’t no terms as to what condition you’s supposed ta be found in. That stunt you’s pulled with Jim?” Blade pulled Race over to a slightly more secluded area of the hall. “You really t’ink you’s gonna get away with dat? Joe’s got fellas all ovah ‘Hattan lookin’ for you’s. He came knockin’ on my door not half an’ hour ago askin’ where you’s were.”</p><p>Race swallowed thickly. “I’s couldn’t do it,” he said weakly.</p><p>“Yeah, well, now you’s owe a debt so big it’ll make your head spin. Dat is, if Joe don’t wanna kill you’s first.”</p><p>“Why are you’s here, den?”</p><p>“Why am I here?” Blade repeated the question and let out a dry laugh. “Cause I’s don’t wanna see you’s dead, kid. You owe Joe a debt you’s ain’t nevah goin’ ta be able ta pay. The least I’s can do is buy ya a bit of time.”</p><p>“You’s helpin’ me,” Race stated and read Blade’s expression very carefully. He seemed shaken, but firm.</p><p>“Nah, I’s helpin’ myself. S’long as Joe’s busy tryin’ ta find you, he’ll forget ‘bout bein’ mad at me for hirin’ you’s.”</p><p>“Right,” Race’s eyes darted around the hall. The reality of the situation was starting to hit him. He caught Jack’s eye a few feet away. The leader pressed a quick kiss to Sarah’s cheek and hurried over to Racetrack’s side.</p><p>“Dere a problem, here?” Jack eyed Blade suspiciously.</p><p>“Oh yeah, dere’s a problem. Your right hand man jus’ helped kill one of Joe’s button men,” said Blade.</p><p>Jack’s head whipped around in Race’s direction. “What?”</p><p>“I’s—I’s went ta dis meetin’ place an’ dis fella was dere. He told me ta—he wanted me ta get Jim outside so’s he could kill ‘em. I’s couldn’t do it, so I’s went inside an’ told Jim ‘bout Joe ordering a hit on ‘em and next t’ing I’s know Jim’s shootin’ out da window an—shit, shit, shit, <em>fuck!” </em>Race tore his newsboy cap off and ran a hand through his hair. He couldn’t breath. The room was spinning and everything was going too fast.</p><p>“Easy, Race…easy,” Jack put his hands on the younger newsie’s shoulders and breathed slowly.</p><p>“Da hell is his problem?” Blade flipped up the collar of his jacket nervously.</p><p>“Happened at da refuge a bunch o’ times,” Jack kept his breathing slow enough for Racetrack to match. “I’s thinkin’ you’s convincin’ him ta join a fucking street gang has kinda upset him a bit.”</p><p>“Jesus,” said Blade. “You’s betta calm da kid down quick ‘cause dis place is gonna be surrounded by Joe’s boys in no time.”</p><p>Jack turned his focus back to Race. “Easy there, pal. You’s okay.”</p><p>“S-sorry,” Race closed his eyes for a moment.</p><p>“S’alright, Race. We’s gonna get cha outta here an’ safe, okay?”</p><p>“I’ll go keep watch,” Blade said in a low voice. “I’s got a few boys by each door so I’ll let ya know if I’s see somethin’.”</p><p>“Okay,” said Jack.</p><p>Blade dove into his trouser pocket and retrieved a key. He tossed it to Jack. “Dere’s an old storage unit off Burlow Street. He’ll be safe dere for a bit.”</p><p>“I’s…“ Race looked up slowly and took in a shaky breath. “I’s goin’ ta Wisconsin.”</p><p>“Wisco— what?” Blade looked like he could laugh and punch Race at the same time.</p><p>“Got train tickets,” said Race. “I’s could be gone by tomorrow.”</p><p>“Dat would be one hell of a disappearin’ act,” Blade seemed almost impressed.</p><p>“I’s could be gone for days.”</p><p>“Hopefully t’ings’ll blow ovah by den,” said Jack.</p><p>“Wouldn’t count on it,” said Blade. “You’s need ta get movin’. Those boys could be here any second. Oh and kid?”</p><p>Race looked up at the Bronx leader nervously. “Yeah?”</p><p>“Don’t get yourself killed.” Blade maneuvered his way through the crowed and was out of site in seconds.</p><p>Jack pulled Race in the direction of the back exit.</p><p>“Wait!” Race cried.</p><p>“You’s heard Blade, we’s need ta move.”</p><p>“Sweetheart,” Race’s heart dropped. “She’s in da dressin’ room. I’s need ta get her home.”</p><p>“Shit,” Jack swore lowly. He ran after Race, knowing full well there was no way he would get his friend out of the building without Hannah with him.</p><p>Race flung the door of the dressing room open and practically cried with relief when he saw her unharmed.</p><p>“Sweetheart,” he breathed and rushed forward to cup her face. “You’s okay.”</p><p>“Or course I am. What happened? What’s going on?<em>”</em></p><p>“We’s need ta get outta here,” Race replied quickly.</p><p>“Now?”</p><p>“Now,” Jack replied for Race.</p><p>“Where are we going?” Hannah asked as Race stroked her cheek with his thumb.</p><p>Jack handed Race the key Blade had given him. “Go,” he said firmly. “I’s goin’ to da train station ta get your tickets. They’s open for another hour so I’s can get you’s on da foist train ta Wisconsin tomorrow mornin’.”</p><p>“Jack…” Race hesitated.</p><p>“Let me do dis for ya, Race. You’s were dere— helpin’ me at da refuge, talkin’ ta me through nightmares. Let me help ya.”</p><p>Race dropped his hands to connect with Hannah’s and turned his head to look at his oldest friend. They’d been through hell and back together. When Race looked up at Jack he saw the face of a friend that had been nothing but loyal and true to him.</p><p>“Da money’s in a sock under my pillow. Dere’s twenty-five dollars there.”</p><p>“Okay,” said Jack. “I’s come back with da tickets an’ your things foist thing in da mornin’.”</p><p>Race nodded and Jack ran out of the room.</p><p>“We’s gotta move, Sweetheart,” Race tried to compartmentalize his fear and focus on the task at hand.</p><p>“Where?” Sweetheart gripped his hand tightly. Racetrack didn’t answer, though. He had a good idea of where the storage unit was and it, thankfully, wasn’t all that far from where they were. Even still, they had to move, and quickly.</p><p>“Can you run?” Race felt terrible asking Hannah the question.</p><p>She simply gave his hand a squeeze. “Of course.”</p><p>With that, they took off into the night.</p><p>If they hadn’t been running for their lives, Race might have realized how cold it was getting. But at that moment, it was the furthest thing from his mind. The pair tore down the streets, swerving around carriages and yelling apologies to people they had to push aside. Finally, they skidded to a halt in front of a dilapidated building. The windows were boarded up. Race checked over his shoulder and saw nobody following them.</p><p>“We’re fine,” He confirmed while panting for breath. The key Blade had given him fit perfectly and the door swung open. What little moonlight there was showed a far from empty storage until.</p><p>“Liquor?” Hannah stepped into the space slowly.</p><p>“Well, at least I’s know where da Bronx get their booze now,” Race closed the door behind them. He noted a single kerosene lamp on a crate and put it on as low as it would go.</p><p>“Are they selling it?”</p><p>Race shrugged and joined Hannah as she sat down against a stack of crates. “You’s sure can run fast,” he put an arm around her.</p><p>“You’re looking at the best softball player in Delbury county,” Hannah found herself grinning despite the circumstances.</p><p>Race smiled at this and pressed a lingering kiss to the top of her head.</p><p>“You’s sounded amazing tonight.”</p><p>“Thank you.”</p><p>Racetrack paused and waited for Hannah to relax against him. “You’s goin’ home tomorrow.”</p><p>And it was at that moment Race knew it couldn’t hold onto Hannah forever. He knew, with painful clarity, that he’d have the train tickets and they’d go, but he’d be the only one coming back. He wasn’t taking Sweetheart to see her parents. No, he was taking her home. A home where he didn’t belong and where he’d leave alone and never to see her again. They’d be like two ships passing in the night. He was beginning to realize just how stupid he had been; to think that Hannah, such a bright and talented girl, would stay with him. Maybe she thought they were good together, but Racetrack knew better. Their relationship could have easily stopped at stolen glances and a slight brush of the hands. Maybe it should have. Maybe he should have stayed back, like Jack had warned him and like Spot did with his girls. Maybe then he wouldn’t feel as defeated and completely devoted to a girl who he knew he just had to let go.</p><p> </p><p> </p>
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<a name="section0018"><h2>18. Home</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>hello it's me and I come with feelings &amp; angst. <br/>Please forgive me for the capitol Angst in this chapter. I promise there be fluff coming your way soon. <br/>Also, sorry for the delay - I'm working a little side project I should be posting real soon. <br/>Hope y'all dig this and, as always, feedback is so amazing!! Thank y'all so much for reading !! xoxoxo</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Race woke up to pounding at the door of the storage unit. He’d fallen asleep with his arms around Hannah who had his jacket wrapped around her. He’d put it on her when he felt her shivering during the night. But she wasn’t there anymore. Race’s heart stopped beating for a fraction of a second. He felt around himself wildly and was about to call out her name when he heard someone open the door.</p><p>“Sweetheart?” Jack’s voice rang out from the street.</p><p>“Hi, Cowboy.”</p><p>“Jesus!” Race stumbled to his feet. “Sweetheart, whaddya doin’ answerin’ the door?”</p><p>Hannah looked over her shoulder at him and shrugged. “You’d sleep through a train whistle.”</p><p>“She shouldn’t be answerin’ the door, Race. I’s coulda been anyone,” said Jack as he walked into the storage unit.</p><p>Race yawned and sighed exasperatedly. “I’s woulda answered it.”</p><p>“You’s on da six-thirty train ta Madison, Wisconsin,” Jack didn’t waste anytime. “It’s five-thirty now so you’s got an hour ta get to da station an’ make yourself disappear.”</p><p>“T’anks, Jack,” Race carefully took the train tickets from his friend.</p><p>“An’ here,” Jack dove into his trouser pocket and pulled a few bills from his money clip.</p><p>“Jack, no!”</p><p>“Take it, damn it,” Jack shoved the bills into his friend’s hand and forced him to make a fist around them. “T’ink of it as me payin’ ya back for all dose times ya saved my ass when we’s playin’ pokah in Brooklyn.”</p><p>Race didn’t know what to say. Hannah did.</p><p>“Thank you,” she looked up at the Manhattan leader. “Thank you for all of this.”</p><p>“S’nothin’, Sweetheart. Oh—“ he reached behind him where he’d dropped a modest canvas bag. “Sarah put a few t’ings in dere for you’s. An extra dress an’ a bar o’ soap I’s t’ink. She’s woikin’ right now, otherwise she woulda come ta see ya off.”</p><p>Hannah nodded in understanding. Sarah had recently acquired a position as a maid for a small lawyer’s office. Jack didn’t like the idea of her working so hard for such little money, but he knew as well as Sarah did, that their family needed every penny.</p><p>“Thank her for us, would ya?” Race took the bag from Jack and slung it over his shoulder.</p><p>“Course,” said Jack. “Say, uh, do you’s want me ta tell Spot where you’s are?”</p><p>Race thought the question over for a moment. “Yeah,” he decided. “Yeah, he should know.”</p><p>“Alright.”</p><p>“What ‘bout da little'uns?”</p><p>“They’s jus’ t’ink you’s takin’ Sweetheart home for a bit. I’s have ‘em stayin’ with Miss Medda till this whole t’ing blows ovah.”</p><p>“Dat’s good,” Race relaxed slightly. He couldn’t bear the thought of the smallest boys being tortured by thugs for information. He had no idea what Joe’s boys would resort to in order to find him.</p><p>“You’s better get goin’,” Jack said. “Street’s are already gettin’ busy.”</p><p>“Right.”</p><p>“Take alley ways, keep your head down, an’ don’t talk till you’s in da train and get da compartment door shut.”</p><p>“Okay,” Race grasped Hannah’s hand and looked up at his oldest friend.</p><p>“Dis ain’t goodbye.”</p><p>“I know.”</p><p>“You two are gonna be jus’ fine,” said Jack. He put his arms around the pair and hugged them none-too-gently.</p><p> </p><p>They rushed through the streets, the morning bustle becoming more and more prominent, and they didn’t stop until they reached the train station. Race kept glancing around in every direction, but he was fairly confident that they hadn’t been followed. Once they found the correct train, Race handed over the tickets and lead Hannah into the train. They made their way to the compartment closest to the back of the train and placed the canvas bag on the seat opposite them.</p><p>Race slid the door shut behind them and sat down next to Hannah.</p><p>“You’s okay?”</p><p>“Yes.”</p><p>“You’s been on one o’ dese t’ings before?” Race looked over at her before mentally slapping himself. “Course you’s been on a train. You’s got here, didn’t ya?”</p><p>Hannah hummed in response and placed her head on Race’s shoulder. “It had been my second time on a train.”</p><p>“When was ya foist?”</p><p>“I went to see Emma read her poem in a poetry reading.”</p><p>“Oh,” Race jumped slightly when the train whistle blew.</p><p>“Have you never been on a train before?”</p><p>Race glanced out the window as the train began to move. “Can’t say I’s have, no.”</p><p>“Finally, something I’ve done that you haven’t!” Hannah exclaimed.</p><p>Race chuckled lightly and pressed a kiss to her temple.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>***</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>“This sure is somthin’,” Race felt like spinning around in circles. He wanted to see in every direction all at once. The land seemed to stretch on forever with only a small smattering of cottages and log cabins as a skyline.</p><p>“Different from New York, isn’t it?” Hannah gripped Race’s hand as they walked towards the edge of town.</p><p>Race stiffened. “Ain’t you’s worried someone’ll see us…”</p><p>“I don’t care,” said Hannah firmly.</p><p>“Won’t your folks be upset?”</p><p>“You’re the one who took me in and helped me. You paid for the funeral and paid to take me here. I could care less who is or isn’t upset over me holding your hand.”</p><p>Race nodded stiffly, but followed Hannah’s lead. They passed a mercantile and a church. Someone called Hannah’s name, but she refused to engage and kept walking.</p><p>Race had never truly known family. His relationship with his father had been unpredictable at best and frightening at worst. He didn’t remember much about his mother; mostly just flashes and sensory memories (like the smell of freshly cooked pasta or clean linen), but he did remember feeling something. He couldn’t quite pinpoint the emotion. He’d been too young when his mother died, so to say that he had felt safe with her, was near impossible. The best he could do was remember being warm around her. She’d held him and kept the nightmares at bay. When she died, his Nona took over and while she kept Racetrack clothed and fed, he could hardly call her the loving kind of grandmother. She was cold and stand-off-ish, spending more time complaining that her only daughter had wasted her life clinging onto Racetrack’s father, and Race, knowing full well what his father was capable of, couldn’t blame her for being bitter.</p><p>It wasn’t often then Racetrack thought about his family. He didn’t remember enough about them. But walking through the frost covered tall grass of the prairies, he couldn’t help but try and recall as much as he could. Whatever memory he could produce had to help him at least somewhat. He couldn’t walk into Hannah’s family home blind, without a clue of how to behave or act. Would he shake their hands? Who was he even? Hannah’s beau? A friend?</p><p>The questions kept swirling around in his brain as Hannah explained various things they passed by. He should have been paying attention to her tender stories. He knew she was only trying to distract him, but his mind had other plans.</p><p>“That’s it up ahead,” Hannah murmured. The cabin was still a speck in the distance, but Racetrack held his breath non-the-less.</p><p>“You’s okay?” Racetrack tried deflecting his own worries by concentrating on Hannah. After all, this was her world that she was introducing him to and it was her family that she had to confront with the news.</p><p>“It hasn’t changed,” she whispered practically inaudibly.</p><p>“I’s right here.”</p><p>Racetracks experience with adults wasn't good. Kloppman was one of the very rare people of authority that hadn't gone out of his way to hurt Race or belittle him.</p><p>Hannah seemed to notice his apprehensive body language and gave his hand a strong squeeze.</p><p>"I'm not leaving you," she whispered, her soft voice dancing with the wind that whipped around them.</p><p>"Okay," Race swallowed his fear. He'd gone through hell at refuge, been beaten by his father more times than he could count... Surly he could handle his girls' Christian family?</p><p>Hannah and Race approached a small log cabin.</p><p>"My Pa built it himself," Hannah referred to the home. They were a few meters away when a small girl ran out the door. She had long, wavy hair like Hannah’s, and brightest blue eyes that seemed to shine brighter than the sun.<br/>“Hannah!” The girl cried, flinging her tiny arms around her sister. “Hannah’s home!”</p><p>“Penny!” Hannah lifted her off the ground and swung her around. “You’ve grown so much! Soon I won’t be able to lift you at all!”</p><p>“I turned six three days ago!”</p><p>“I know you did, honey! Happy, happy, birthday to you!” Hannah beamed in spite of the tears that threatened to spill over. The little girl kept hugging her, but turned her head to the side.</p><p>“Who’s he?”</p><p>“That,” Hannah pulled back a little so Penny could see Race. “Is Racetrack.”</p><p>“That’s his <em>name?</em>”</p><p>“Dat’s my name,” Race grinned down at the girl’s wide eyes.</p><p>“Do you have horses?” Penny cocked her head to the side.</p><p>“No,” Race chuckled. “But I’s watch ‘em all da time and I’s know how ta take care of ‘em.”</p><p>“You sound funny.”</p><p>“Penny!” Hannah scolded gently. “Don’t be rude.”</p><p>“Hey, hey, pipsqueak, don’t ya worry,” Race knelt down in front of Penny. “You’s ain’t rude. I’s probably sound real funny ta you’s huh?”</p><p>Penny nodded her head enthusiastically. “I like your hat.”</p><p>“T’anks, kid,” Race took his newsie cap off and put it on her head. It about covered her entire face, causing the girl to giggle.</p><p>“You’re nice,” Penny pushed the hat back a little and smiled up at Race. Hannah marvelled at his ability to make her laugh. He poked her nose and stuck his tongue out at her and it reminded Hannah of just how wonderful Race was around children.</p><p>“I think somebody likes you,” Hannah smiled down at a giggling Penny.</p><p>“Hey, can you’s blame her?” Race grinned and took his hat back. “What’s not ta like?”</p><p>Hannah flushed a little at his flirtatious wink.</p><p>“Hannah?” Penny’s expression suddenly changed to one of confusion. “Where’s Julia?”</p><p>Race swallowed hard and put his arm around Hannah. To hell with what was proper and what wasn’t; Hannah needed to know he was there for her. Just like she’d always been there for him. Hannah opened her mouth to speak, but the cabin door opened again, this time to reveal and older girl.</p><p>“Emma,” Hannah put a hand on Penny’s shoulder and stood tall. “You look well.”</p><p>“You’re back,” Emma smoothed her apron.</p><p>“I am. Temporarily, at least.”</p><p>“Pa just brought home rabbit. Ma and I are just preparing it.”</p><p>“That sounds… lovely.”</p><p>Emma crossed the few meters between them with urgency. “You can’t honestly think you can bring this boy into the house?”</p><p>Hannah cast Racetrack an apologetic glance. “He paid for the train tickets. He brought me here so I wouldn’t have to travel alone.”</p><p>“How very chivalrous.”</p><p>“Emma, really, there’s no need to make such a fuss.”</p><p>“Such a fuss?” Emma repeated the words bitterly. “Ma is going to faint when she sees this.”</p><p>“I came home to speak to all of you. I didn’t come home to be condemned and ridiculed by you,” Hannah’s voice dipped dangerously low. Race had never known her to become so defensive. Clearly sibling bonding didn’t extend to all members of the family.</p><p>Race felt Hannah shift uncomfortably as the cabin door opened once again.</p><p>“Ma,” Emma turned to face the middle-aged woman. “Look who’s come to visit.”</p><p>“Hello, Ma,” Hannah tried to keep her voice steady.</p><p>Race had no idea what to expect in regards to Hannah’s mother. She stood in front of them, all stern and hair in a tight bun, and Race removed his arm from Hannah’s shoulders. Her Ma’s judgemental stare caused him to shrink into himself slightly.</p><p>“I’s—uh— made sure she came ta no harm Mme. I’s bought da tickets an’ brought her here so’s she could see ya and talk to ya,” Race said as politely as he could. He’d never spoken to parents who weren’t his own before.</p><p>Hannah’s Ma continued to stare down at the pair. “You traveled unchaperoned.” She said the words like they were poison.</p><p>“I’s her chaperone, Mme.”</p><p>“You…”</p><p>“Ma!” Hannah exclaimed before her mother could continue. “Why don’t we all go inside. I need to speak to all of you.”</p><p>“He is not welcome inside this house.”</p><p>“Ma, please.”</p><p>“Hannah, I will not allow such a sinful display in my home.”</p><p>“Racetrack is my companion, Ma. He’s helped me so much. I wouldn’t be here without him,” Hannah said in a small voice.</p><p>Her Ma looked the newsie up and down with distain. “What kind of a name is Racetrack?”</p><p>“S’ da name Jack foist gave me when I’s come to da lodgin’ house, Mme,” said Race. “An I’s promise you, Hannah ain’t done nothin’ indecent. I’s ain’t done nothin’ but respect her an’ be there for her.”</p><p>“Where is Julia?” Hannah’s mother ignored Racetrack’s explanation entirely.</p><p>“Please, Ma. Let us come inside,” Hannah all but begged. Her Ma’s eyes widened even further, but she opened the door.</p><p>“Pa! Maria! Look who came home!” Penny charged out in front of the pair.</p><p>“Don’t shout, Penelope,” Emma hissed and pulled her back. Race looked around the small cabin and saw a tall, lean man with a greying beard sitting at the head of a wooden table. He seemed to have the same stern expression as Hannah’s mother. A girl, perhaps two year younger than Hannah, was serving what appeared to be stew into tin bowls. She looked up and almost dropped the spoon she was using to serve the food.</p><p>“Hannah!” She exclaimed. “Hannah, what…?”</p><p>“What’s happened, Hannah?” Her Pa looked none to pleased to see her. “We haven’t received a single letter from you.”</p><p>“I need to talk to you, Pa. All of you, actually,” said Hannah.</p><p>“I’ll set two more plates,” said Maria.</p><p>“Oh no, no, no,” Race took a step forwards. “You’s don’t gotta do dat. I’s don’t mean ta intrude on ya suppah. I’s can leave an’ find a hotel in town or somethin’.”</p><p>“There isn’t a hotel,” said Emma, her voice clipped.</p><p>“Right,” Race cleared his throat awkwardly. “We I’s can find some place ta go all da same.”</p><p>“No,” Hannah said firmly. “Ma…Pa… this is Racetrack. He accompanied me here and he is staying here. I owe him that at the very least. Racetrack, this is my Ma and Pa, Martha and Jebediah.”</p><p>“We’ll have to ration the meat,” Hannah’s Ma looked down at the pot of stew. It was as if her daughter hadn’t said a word.</p><p>“I’s fine with vegetables Mme,” Race tried. “Before Sweetheart here came along, all we’s evah had at da lodge was baked means an’ stale toast.”</p><p>Neither of Hannah’s parents responded, instead sat down at the table and waited for everyone else to be seated.</p><p>“Now,” Jebediah looked across the table at his daughter. “Where is Julia?”</p><p>“Pa…I—“ Hannah’s voice broke. She looked down at her plate of stew and tried to collect herself. Race wanted to speak for her. She seemed to sense his intentions, because she quickly shook her head at him. “There was an accident.”</p><p>“An accident,” Martha’s lips thinned at the repetition of Hannah’s words.</p><p>“A fire.”</p><p>“How?” Hannah’s Pa remained emotionless.</p><p>“One of the machine wires was faulty,” said Hannah. “I tried getting us out. So many girls died, Pa. Over fifty workers died, because they couldn’t get out. I tried to find a way for Julia to escape, but she fell.”</p><p>“She did everything she could, sir,” Race added quickly and looked at Hannah. “Ain’t nothin’ more you’s coulda done.”</p><p>“You let your sister die,” Emma’s voice came strong and unforgiving.</p><p>“Emma, I—“</p><p>“How can you come back to this house, with this boy, after what you let happen!”</p><p>“Hey!” Race cried, eyes narrowing at the eldest sister. “You’s watch what you’s sayin’!”</p><p>Hannah shushed him gently and placed a hand on his arm to calm him. “It’s alright, Racetrack.”</p><p>“No it ain’t,” he managed to lower his voice a little. “You’s didn’t do nothin’ wrong.”</p><p>“Julia died,” Jebediah stated plainly, neither upset, nor sympathetic.</p><p>“I’m so sorry, Pa,” Hannah murmured. “I tried the best that I could.”</p><p>“Was there a funeral?”</p><p>“Yes, Racetrack payed for the cost himself. There was a service and prayers and…”</p><p>“It was real nice,” Race supplied gently. “I’s went with her.”</p><p>Jebediah nodded stiffly at the newsie. “Well, at least that’s something. Are you a man of God, boy?”</p><p>Race stirred his stew awkwardly. “I’s go ta mass, sir.”</p><p>“Mass?”</p><p>“I’s raised Catholic.”</p><p>“Good grief,” Hannah’s mother ripped a piece of bread in half aggressively.</p><p>Silence fell over the family for some time. Emma kept sending cold glares at Hannah, but said nothing. Finally, after the meal was almost completed, Hannah’s Pa spoke again.</p><p>“We’re moving farther west,” he said gruffly. “Too many settlers here and not enough game.”</p><p>Hannah knew the words well, having heard them more times than she could count. Racetrack looked at her hardening expression and wished he could embrace her or at the very least hold her hand.</p><p>“Why?” Hannah ignored her father’s passive explanation.</p><p>“It isn’t your place to question my choices,” said Jebediah.</p><p>“What about Penelope and Maria’s schooling?”</p><p>“There will be new schools.”</p><p>“They’ve only just started making friends!”</p><p>“Hannah!” Emma scolded harshly. “Don’t be difficult.”</p><p>“How many times are you going to do this, Pa?” Hannah continued her defence. “Every time the girls just start to get settled, you uproot us.”</p><p>“Hannah, don’t speak to your Pa like that,” her Ma said, her voice clipped and cold. “Besides, you girls enjoy our journeys in the wagon, don’t you?”</p><p>The two younger girls said nothing, but nodded their heads quickly.</p><p>“They’re just too scared to say anything!” Hannah cried. She hadn’t meant to raise her voice, but she felt like her Ma and Pa just weren’t hearing her.</p><p>“Hold you tongue,” her Pa said, his voice low and commanding. “You have come back here to shame us with your failure and sinful choices. Your words have no place in this house any longer.”</p><p>And it was at that point that Race saw red. He couldn’t stand by and let Hannah be spoken to in such a way. He clenched and unclenched his fists and stood up from his chair.</p><p>“Your daughter ain’t a failure, <em>sir.</em> She did everything she could and you’s weren’t there. When I’s found her she was shiverin’ an’ ain’t had nothin’ ta eat in days. She tried savin’ Julia—“</p><p>“Race,” Hannah tried to interject.</p><p>“No, Sweetheart. I’s need ta say dis,” Race put his hand overtop of hers on the table. Everyone at the table stiffened at the gesture. “You’s ain’t a failure. You’s da strongest, kindest, goil I’s evah met and I’s ain’t gonna sit here an’ let your Pa spin lies ‘bout you.”</p><p>“I have never, nor will I ever lie. Lying is a sin.” Hannah’s Pa rose from the table as well. </p><p>“Yeah? Well so’s judgin’. An dat’s somethin’ I sees you’s real good at.”</p><p>“Race, don’t,” Hannah tried to tug his sleeve to get him to sit again.</p><p>“What exactly is your <em>relationship</em> with my daughter?” </p><p>Race took a few calming breaths. “I’s her friend.”</p><p>“Friend?”</p><p>“He’s my beau,” Hannah said and looked up at the newsie. He couldn’t help but crack a grin at this. He allowed himself to be tugged back down onto his chair.</p><p>“Your beau,” Jebediah repeated the word with disgust.</p><p>“Are you engaged?” Emma asked.</p><p>“What?” Hannah cried. “I haven’t finished school. I haven’t earned any money. How on earth could I possibly get married? I’m hardly old enough anyway!”</p><p>“I was engaged to your Pa at fifteen,” Hannah’s Ma said.</p><p>“And if your so called <em>beau</em> was any kind of provider, you wouldn’t have to earn money,” said Jebediah.</p><p>“He does earn money! He’s one of the finest newspaper salesmen in New York!” Hannah countered. Her Pa slammed his fist down on the table, causing Race to flinch.</p><p>“A newsboy?” Her Pa shouted across the table. “You’ve chosen to live in sin with a newsboy? What exactly does he provide for you?”</p><p>“Everything!”</p><p>“And where do you live?”</p><p>Race looked up from his plate, eyes narrow and jaw clenched. “Not on the street,” he looked directly at Jebediah.</p><p>“Without Racetrack, I would have died on the streets, Pa,” Hannah added, lowering her voice again. All the shouting was making Race tense and jumpy.</p><p>There was a thick silence as Jebediah sat down again and ate a few more mouthfuls of rabbit.</p><p>“So you live with him,” he muttered.</p><p>“I live in the same building as him, yes,” said Hannah. “I pay for a separate room in a boarding house.”</p><p>“You haven’t sent home any money.”</p><p>“I…”</p><p>“Da factory burned down,” Race supplied for Hannah. “Didn’t you’s hear her before? Your daughter’s been havin’ nightmares ‘bout it for weeks.”</p><p>Jebediah glared at Racetrack. “As long as she choses to be seen with you. As long as she lives in sin with a house full of delinquents, she is no daughter of mine.”</p><p>“But Pa, I tried. Really I did. I couldn’t have done more than what I did. Racetrack is a blessing, not a sin,” Hannah said weakly.</p><p>“You are no longer welcome in this family as long as you chose to live the way you do.”</p><p>There was another heavy silence. The two younger girls stared up at Hannah, tears in their eyes, the fear of losing their kindly older sister so real. Racetrack looked at the girls and his stomach dropped. He couldn’t stay. He didn’t belong there. As much as he despised Hannah’s Pa, he couldn’t bring himself to permanently separate Hannah from her family. She loved her sisters so much and her Ma, as much as she seemed to exist in Jebediah’s shadow, wasn’t altogether horrible. Race couldn’t live with being the reason why Hannah couldn’t see her family anymore. With that in mind, he made his choice.</p><p>“I’s t’ink I’s better be goin’,” he got up from the table.</p><p>“What? Race? No!” Hannah jumped up and grabbed his hand.</p><p>“I’s can’t stay here, Sweetheart. Your Pa’s right. What can I’s offer you, huh? Stale bagels an’ a couple days at Sheepshead. I’s can’t give ya dis,” Race gestured around the small log cabin. “I’s can’t give ya a home.”</p><p>“A home is where love is,” Hannah looked up at him pleadingly. “This home hasn’t shown me love in a very long time. You and the boys have.”</p><p>“Sweetheart…” Race hung his head and pushed his chair in.</p><p>“No!” Hannah cried. “If you’re leaving, then I am too.”</p><p>“You leave with him and you won’t be welcome here again,” Jebediah said firmly.</p><p>“Fine!” Hannah linked her arm with Race’s. “Besides, you won’t be here for very much longer anyway, will you? Off to the next claim and new land. You’ll settle there for, what, two years and then want to leave again. I can’t live like that anymore, Pa. I’ve found someplace to call home.”</p><p>“Hannah, won’t you please calm down and reconsider?” Her Ma said softly.</p><p>“I’m sorry, Ma. I’m sorry Maria…Penelope. Write to me,” she placed a small slip of paper on the table in front of her Ma.</p><p>The littlest girl, Penelope, clambered off her chair and ran to Hannah’s side. She threw her arms around her and let out a kind of broken sob.</p><p>“Don’t go!” She wailed.</p><p>Hannah closed her eyes and tried to stabilize her breathing. No, she couldn’t cry. She wouldn’t let herself. “Penny, honey, I love you so much.”</p><p>“I love you too.”</p><p>“And I will miss you every day and every night.”</p><p>“I’ll miss you too,” the little girl clung onto her sister.</p><p>“I’ll write,” Hannah forced her to pull back. “I’ll right every day and send you anything I can spare.”</p><p>Hannah’s Ma and Pa said nothing as she left the log cabin, Racetrack shocked and trailing behind her.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p>
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<a name="section0019"><h2>19. Loft</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>A little bit of angst- a little bit of feels- a little bit of romance ...<br/>So so so so SO sorry for the delay with this, ya'll. I've been writing that Crutchie story (check it out!) and I've been having a really hard time depression wise. I needed to take some time away from looking at screens. <br/>Anyway, I'm slowly chipping away at the next bit, but it still may take a while. I truly wish I could be more consistent. <br/>Thanks so much for reading and for sticking around! <br/>As always, let me know what you think :) :)</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Race had always thought he could get out of any situation. He was quick, clever, and streetwise; three qualities that had always stood him in good stead. But, it took him all of five seconds to realize that making it on the streets of New York hadn’t prepared him for the harsh reality of a crisp, unforgiving north wind, and absolutely no shelter in sight.</p><p>“There’s an abandoned barn just behind those trees,” Hannah said as she marched forward. “We can stay there until the morning and catch the first coach to the train station.”</p><p>“You’s sure?” Race reached forward and gripped her hand.</p><p>Hannah kept her gaze straight head. “Absolutely.”</p><p>They walked in silence, the wind whipping around them like some sort of a chaotic taunt. Race kept trying to steel glances at Hannah, but she kept her head forward and determined. Even when they approached the barn, it’s roof slightly caving in, she didn’t look at him.</p><p>“The loft will be warmer,” Hannah pointed up the wooden ladder. Race nodded simply and followed her up the steps to a hay covered loft.</p><p>Finally, after several moments of silence and Race stroking Hannah’s hand with his thumb, she seemed to let her guard down.</p><p>“Sweetheart,” he saw her head drop and instantly shifted closer to her. “I’s so sorry.”</p><p>“You didn’t do anything wrong, Racetrack,” Hannah’s voice shook as she spoke. She was hardly holding it together.</p><p>“I’s shoulda jus’ left when ya folks wanted me to. I’s overstayed my welcome an’ den some.”</p><p>“They—“ Hannah’s voice broke. She took a deep shuddering breath, but kept her head bowed. “They should have <em>never</em> said those things to you. I am so ashamed that they treated like that, Racetrack. And after everything you’ve done for me.”</p><p>“Hey,” Race tried to maneuver himself so he was facing her. “Listen ta me, okay? They’s jus’ woids. I’s hoid worse said ta me an’ I don’t let it get ta me. It’s nothin’, Sweetheart. An’ I’s don’t even blame them for sayin’ those t’ings. ‘Cause it ain’t like I’m a prize or nothin’. Your folks had every right ta be upset with a street rat like me bein’ in dere home.”</p><p>His words were meant to comfort her. They were meant to trivialize what had happened. Because it wasn’t like Racetrack hadn’t felt the harsh sting of reality. He knew, realistically, that Hannah’s parents’ reaction to him was perfectly normal and rational. He needed Hannah to understand that. But rather than comfort her, his words seemed to have the opposite affect.</p><p>She finally raised her eyes to meet his. “No!” She cried. “My family is supposed to be Christian. They weren’t supposed to cast judgement so easily and make you feel unwelcome and unsafe. You did everything for me and they cast you aside like… like you were nothing. But you’re <em>everything</em> to me, Racetrack. And I don’t understand how they couldn’t see that or understand that.”</p><p>“They’s jus’ worried an’ protective.”</p><p>“They hate me because of Julia. I—it should have be me to fall. They would have been happier.”</p><p>“No!” Race insisted urgently. He grabbed both of her hands and forced her to keep her eyes on him. “You’s did everything you could ta save her, Sweetheart. Ain’t nothin’ you’s coulda done different. Your folks weren’t wrong in what they’s said ‘bout me. I’s okay with it.”</p><p>“Well you shouldn’t be! They’re judgmental and awful. You shouldn’t believe a word they said. You <em>are</em> a prize and you <em>are not</em> a street rat. You are a wonderful person and I…” Hannah’s voice trailed off as she finally allowed a single tear to fall. And it was as if that triggered the rest, because one tear turned into two and then any semblance of composure Hannah had before, disappeared.</p><p>Race pulled her forward slightly and wrapped his arms around her. He didn’t think at all; he just did. God, she’d been holding it in for how long? Days? Weeks? Probably months.</p><p>“Shhh,” he whispered gently by her ear as he stroked soothing circles around her back. “I’s got ya. I’s right here.”</p><p>“I’m—“ Hannah tried to breath. “I’m so sorry.”</p><p>“Don’t be sorry, Sweetheart. You’s didn’t do nothin’ wrong.”</p><p>“But my family…”</p><p>“Hey,” Race pulled back a few millimetres to brush away some of her tears and press a kiss to her forehead. “We’s don’t get ta chose who our parents are, but we’s can chose our family. Da boys are jus’ as much my family as they are yours now.”</p><p>“You mean that?”</p><p>“Course I do.”</p><p>“Because I feel more at home with you and the boys than I ever did here.”</p><p>“Da boys t’ink you’s real great, Sweetheart. They’s care ‘bout you’s,” Race swallowed thickly. “I’s care ‘bout you’s.”</p><p>Hannah blinked up at Race as more tears fell down her cheeks. God, she couldn’t hold herself together anymore. “I…I..”</p><p>“Shhh,” Race tucked her head back under his chin again. “You’s don’t gotta say anythin’ okay? Your woild is spinnin’ too fast right now. I’s don’t expect ya ta say anythin’ ‘bout how ya feel or anythin’ like dat, okay?” He felt Hannah nod against his chest and sniffle. “I’s jus’ want ya ta know dat I’s care and I’s ain’t goin’ anywhere. Me an’ you, sweetheart, we’s in dis togethah.”</p><p>“But you have your life.”</p><p>“Yeah, and you’s part of it,” Race stroked her hair comfortingly. “Listen, what your folks said ‘bout me. I’s didn’t mean ta upset ya by sayin’ it doesn’t matter. What I’s mean is, it’s not your fault. You’s didn’t say them woids an’ you’s don’t get ta chose your parents.”</p><p>Hannah sniffled again and looked up at him. “How did I ever get so lucky as to come across you?”</p><p>“I’s da lucky one,” Race wiped away any of her remaining tears with his thumbs.</p><p>“Race?”</p><p>“Yeah Sweetheart?”</p><p>“One day, I want to be able to show you how wonderful you are. I want you to be willing to defend yourself like you defend others. I want you to see yourself how I see you. I hate that you’re so used to people saying awful things to you, that you’re able to brush it aside like it’s nothing. Nobody should be used to being hurt, Racetrack.”</p><p>And then, because Hannah couldn’t think of what else to say, she lightly brushed her lips against his. He startled at first, because physical contact was still a strange thing when he wasn’t the one initiating it, but he soon relaxed. Hannah caught onto his hesitation though, andinstantly pulled away.</p><p>“No, no, s’alrigh’,” Race assured her softly.</p><p>“I shouldn’t have. I’m so sorry. I—“</p><p>Race kissed her back soundly. A good, steadfast kiss that was filled with both excitement and comfort.</p><p>“Nothin’—“ Race breathed between kisses. “Ta—“ another kiss. “Be sorry ‘bout.”</p><p>He kissed her once more, this time softly, like an apology, and pulled back just enough to look at her.</p><p>“I shouldn’t have done that,” Hannah’s eyes looked suddenly sad again. “I should have known you wouldn’t like me kissing you.”</p><p>“Dat ain’t it at all, Sweetheart,” Race cupped her face with his hands. “I’s…” he paused to collect his thoughts. “I’s t’ink it’s about da best t’ing in da woild when you’s kiss me. It jus’ surprises me, ya know? And I ain’t dat good with surprises of da touchin’ kind an’ all.”</p><p>“I understand,” Hannah placed her hands over Race’s.</p><p>“Good,” Race glanced at her lips and then back to her eyes again. “Miss Medda says I aught’a talk more. Somethin’ bout communication an’ bein’ able ta talk ‘bout t’ings dat bother me.”</p><p>“She’s right,” said Hannah. “And you can always talk to me. You can say as much or as little as you want.”</p><p>“I’s got a question for you’s,” Race placed a delicate kiss to her jaw as he whispered in her ear.</p><p>Hannah tried to suppress a shudder. “Alright.”</p><p>“Can I’s kiss ya again?”</p><p>“Please.”</p><p>And then Race kissed her and it was different from any of the other times they’d kissed. It wasn’t gentle or careful. It wasn’t passionate or comforting. It was needy and desperate; like they both wanted to kiss their pain away. They felt their moment was fleeting and Race couldn’t help but think if he didn’t kiss her he wouldn’t ever get to kiss her again.</p><p>Race had kissed a few girls before, though they hadn’t been more than a passing fancy or a quick smooch here or there. They were mostly friends of Spot’s that were invited to poker games because the Brooklyn leader was under some kind of impression that Race needed female companionship. The few kisses he’d experienced were mostly to keep up appearances.</p><p>But kissing Hannah, well, that was a completely different story. Kissing Hannah felt like the only right thing in a world of wrong. It felt like chocolate cake and a new cigar and winning a bet. It felt like sunshine and he didn’t want it to stop. He realized, as Hannah’s hands ran through his hair, that he quite possibly loved her. Maybe it was too soon and maybe he wasn’t thinking clearly, what with two kisses turning into three and then four, but he didn’t care. He couldn’t tell her how he felt though. Not with everything she was going through. Surly she didn’t need his declarations when he was bringing her back to a home full of uncertain danger.</p><p>With every passing kiss his feelings became harder and harder to suppress.</p><p>So instead of saying what he felt, he tried to show her. He was always better with actions than with words. After the seventh kiss (not that he was counting) which had him tilting her head to the side lightly for better access, his hands went from cupping her face to brushing down her sides to land on her waist. The action made Hannah’s breath catch in her throat and jolt ever so slightly.</p><p>Race pulled back as if burned. “I’s—uh—I’s sorry.”</p><p>“It’s okay,” Hannah said, her voice entirely too breathy to be acceptable.</p><p>“We should—ya know…”</p><p>“Don’t stop.”</p><p>Race’s jaw dropped and he knew he looked like an absolutely blushing fool. “What?”</p><p>“This feels right. I need to forget everything,” Hannah paused to press a soft kiss to Race’s cheek. “And you make me happy.”</p><p>“I’s glad.”</p><p>“And we’re alone for the first time in…”</p><p>“I’s don’t t’ink we’s evah been alone, Sweetheart,” Race breathed. God, the words should have frightened him. They should have scared him into backing off, because the words were dangerous. Hannah didn’t give him much longer to think or be rational because her lips collided with his again and it was as if the only thing Racetrack could possibly think about was the impossibly strong and beautiful girl in his arms.</p><p>When her soft hands played with his hair and tugged gently, he tilted her head to the side again and deepened the kiss. Lord, he’d never kissed a girl like he was kissing Hannah; all admiration and desperation. He needed her like he needed to breath. This time she wasn’t surprised when his hands skimmed down her sides to rest on her waist. This time she sighed into the kiss and leaned into him. She made a kind of breathy moan-like sound and Race shuddered. She had no idea the affect she had on him. The kind of all encompassing love he had for her. Racetrack suddenly understood all those confusing opera plots Hannah had tried to explain to him. He’d thought the characters were stupid for doing all those crazy things in the name of love, but kissing Hannah and having her pressing closer to him, he completely understood. His hand went to the small of her back and yes, he knew right then, he’d die for her.</p><p>“God, Sweetheart,” he breathed between kisses.</p><p>“Race,” his name rolled off her tongue as his kisses traveled to her cheek and then down to her neck.</p><p>“You’s so beautiful.”</p><p>“You’re—<em>oh</em>—“ Hannah breath hitched when he kissed her just under ears.</p><p>Race grinned against her neck and chuckled. Damn, did the lace collar of her dress have to go so high? He kissed back up her neck all the while chastising himself for being such a randy boy. The collar of her dress served as a reminder of Hannah’s purity and upbringing. She didn’t deserve to be scandalized by indecency or her beau’s impure thoughts.</p><p>Hannah pulled back slightly as Race placed a light kiss to her cheek. She blinked at him rapidly, face flushed.</p><p>“You’s okay?” He asked, arms still encircling her.</p><p>Hannah rested her hands on his shoulders. “I’m wonderful.”</p><p>“I should, ya know, back off.”</p><p>“Why?”</p><p>“Well—uh—“ Race scratched the back of his neck nervously. God, he needed to calm down. “You’s nevah done dis before.”</p><p>“I’ve kissed you,” Hannah cocked her head to the side with a small smile.</p><p>“Yeah, I’s know dat,” Race chuckled. “I’s mean you’s nevah done anythin’ more dan kissin’.”</p><p>“So?”</p><p>“So… I’s don’t want dis ta go too fast for ya, dat’s all. I’s don’t want ya ta get caught up in feelin’ sad an’ wantin’ ta feel bettah. I’s don’t want ya to wake up tomorrow and hate yourself for doin’ something you’s weren’t ready for.”</p><p>“But this feels nice.”</p><p>“I know.”</p><p>“Don’t you want to keep going?” Hannah asked the question, but looked down at where her hands had dropped to connect with Racetrack’s.</p><p>He tilted her chin up with his finger. “Doesn’t matter what I want, Sweetheart. This ain’t what you’s wantin’.”</p><p>“You don’t know that!” Hannah cried suddenly.</p><p>“I’s know you ain’t ready ta keep goin’,” Race kept his voice low and calm.</p><p>“What if I am? What if… what if I just want to feel good and nice and be held and—“</p><p>“Sweetheart—“</p><p>“No!” Hannah swiped at her eyes angrily. “I don’t understand why I can’t change my mind! I’m not my Ma and Pa’s daughter anymore. Why can’t I kiss someone if I want to? Why can’t I just let myself go and give into what feels good?”</p><p>Race reached up to cup her face and wipe away a few tears. “Cause you’s hurtin’.”</p><p>“I felt wonderful when you… kissed me,” Hannah said slowly.</p><p>“But you’s shouldn’t do somethin’ jus’ cause you’s hurtin’.”</p><p>“But Race,” Hannah tried to continue, but her tears started falling thick and fast. Race, in turn, wrapped his arms around her and lay down so she could fully bury herself into his embrace. “Race, I’m so sorry,” she words caught in her throat. “What you must think of me.”</p><p>“I’s t’ink you’s hurtin’ an’ confused. I promise it’ll get bettah, though. I used ta have nightmares all da time too. But it get’s bettah. You’s jus’ gotta give it time.”</p><p>“I shouldn’t be this upset,” Hannah’s body shook with heavy sobs. “Your Pa…” her voice trailed off for a moment. “He is so much worse than my parents.”</p><p>“Hey, dis ain’t a competition ta see who’s folks are da woist,” Race joked half-heartedly and kissed her hairline. “‘Sides, I’s pretty sure woids are jus’ as bad as punches. Dey hurt jus’ da same.”</p><p>“I’m sorry.”</p><p>“For what?”</p><p>“Mentioning your Pa. I didn’t mean to compare or remind you of anything. I know how much he hurt you and I shouldn’t have said anything about him,” Hannah sniffled against Race’s chest. She could feel herself relax ever so slightly at the feel of him rubbing soothing circles around her back.</p><p>“S’okay, Sweetheart. I’s understand.”</p><p>“I’m glad though,” Hannah paused and looked up at him. “To be leaving with you.”</p><p>“Yeah?” Race chuckled when she quickly nodded her head. “I’s gonna save up an’ get us a place of our own. An’ not one of ‘em run down tenement housing places. Somethin’ nice with a fence an’ a yard. Or maybe I’ll build us somethin’ jus’ outside da city.”</p><p>Hannah blinked up at him, tears clinging onto her eyelashes. “You really mean that?”</p><p>“Sure I’s do,” Race swallowed thickly and when she didn’t respond right away, he worried. “Jesus, I’s movin’ way too fast, aren’t I? Course I am. I mean, you’s so confused an’ I’s still got dis score ta settle with those fellas an’—“</p><p>“Race?” Hannah placed a hand on his cheek to steady him and stop his rambling. “That is positively the most romantic thing I have ever heard. And I’ve read Jane Austin.”</p><p>“Compliment me more an I’s kiss ya again,” he winked.</p><p>Hannah giggled, though the odd tear still slid down her cheeks. “You always know how to make me laugh.”</p><p>“S’a talent,” Race murmured into her hair as he continued stroking her back. It was getting cold outside, but the hey kept them warm. The blowing cold air from outside triggered a memory.“Ya like Christmas?” He felt a little stupid asking the question (I mean, who didn’t like Christmas) but he also knew that for kids like them, who didn’t grow up with gifts and privilege, Christmas could sometimes mean pain instead of joy.</p><p>But Hannah’s face lit up and it about made his whole life complete.</p><p>“I <em>adore</em> Christmas,” she lifted her head from his shoulder and looked up at him with sparkling eyes. “It’s magical. It’s my favourite time of year.”</p><p>“My Mama liked it an awful lot too. I’s remember her bustlin’ ‘round in da kitchen bakin’ all kinds of stuff.”</p><p>“My Pa,” Hannah paused, unsure if she wanted to continue. “He always used to cut down a tree for us and then we’d decorate it with popcorn garland and cookies.”</p><p>“Dat sounds real nice.”</p><p>“It was,” the wind outside howled, causing her to shiver. Race wrapped his arms around her more securely. “We were hungry sometimes,” Hannah continued softly, as if talking more to herself than anyone else. “The last winter was awful.”</p><p>Race didn’t quite know what to say. For a moment, he wished he had the ability to be like Crutchie or Davey or even Jack. They knew how to comfort and say the right words. Race only thought he knew how to make people laugh.</p><p>“But you’s survived,” he paused. “An’ I’s gonna make sure you’s nevah go hungry again. We’s can have our own Christmas dis year.”</p><p>Race felt Hannah shake against him again and shushed her gently. She wasn’t crying out of sadness anymore, no, she was crying out of gratitude.</p><p>“You’re such a fine man, Racetrack.”</p><p>“Anthony,” Race found himself saying it before he realized what he had done. Only a couple of the boys new his real name. Jack, Spot, Crutchie and Mush.</p><p>“Anthony,” Hannah repeated the name and looked up at him. Suddenly his name didn’t sound so bad.</p><p>“Yeah, well, you’s about the nicest, kindest, person I’s evah met. Usually folks who’s hungry, ain’t so nice.”</p><p>“What do you mean?”</p><p>“S’just that… well… when I’s used ta be hungry, I wasn’t half as nice as you. I’s swiped stuff an’ lied ta folks all da time. And I’s good at it too. Brought all kinds of stuff back ta my ol’ man so’s he could pawn it off an’ buy himself cigarettes and make bets.”</p><p>“Oh, Race,” Hannah placed her hand on his face gingerly.“That wasn’t you, though. That was circumstance.”</p><p>“Circum…?”</p><p>“Circumstance,” Hannah repeated gently. “If you had a family who had taught you well, you wouldn’t have done those things.”</p><p>Race shook his head weakly. “Nah, I don’t think so. The way I see’s it, folks’ll do an awful lot o’ bad shit if they’re hungry an’ tired. They ain’t interested in doing da right thing, they’s just wanna survive.”</p><p>“And I’m saying that had your Ma survived, I don’t think you would have resorted to stealing.”</p><p>“Suppose not,” Race contemplated it for a moment. He’d only really developed sticky fingers after his mother had died and his father had gotten worse.</p><p>Hannah took his moment of silence to be a bad thing and stroked his cheek soothingly. “I shouldn’t have said that,” she whispered.</p><p>“You’s right, though,” he mumbled and dropped his head against the crook of her neck.</p><p>“You are a good person, Race. And shall keep saying that until one day, you believe it.”</p><p>The pair fell asleep curled up against each other, unsure of their future, but none the less glad they had stayed together.</p><p> </p><p> </p>
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<a name="section0020"><h2>20. Contrary</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>WOW sorry for the long wait y'all!! Life has been hectic and writing this has kinda gone on the back-burner. Here's a drama-loaded one, though. As always, let me know what you think. Reviews are so so so lovely and appreciate :)</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Racetrack knew they couldn’t go back to Manhattan. It would be too easy and they’d be followed. Brooklyn, he decided, was still risky, but at least it was well enforced. Spot did not take kindly to their arrival.</p><p>He sat atop his stack or crates and refused to make proper eye contact with Race.</p><p>“You’s got some kinda nerve, Higgins.”</p><p>“I’s got no place else ta take Sweetheart,” Race said in what he hoped wasn’t desperate manner.</p><p>“Why is it…” Spot jumped down from his thrown lazily. “You’s always come cryin’ ta Brooklyn when you’s get a bad hand o’ cards?”</p><p>“M’sorry, Spot,” Race mumbled.</p><p>“Yeah, I don’t really think you’s are. You mus’ think I’s some kinda sucker, huh? Every time you’s do something dumb, I’s fix it up for ya.”</p><p>“I’s didn’t mean ta put ya out.”</p><p>“You’s puttin’ all me boys in danger by bein’ here.”</p><p>“What is he supposed to do?” Hannah cried in Race’s defence. “He has nowhere to go and he just wants to fix things. <em>We,</em>” she emphasized the word with force. “Just want to fix things.”</p><p>“An’ what happens if I’s sick of sticking my neck out for you’s? What happens if I’s don’t wanna risk me boys gettin’ hoit?”</p><p>“Then you’re choosing to be a self centred, hot-headed, drill sergeant, over being a good friend.”</p><p>“My, my,” Spot sniffed in amusement. “You’s better watch your temper, goil.”</p><p>“An’ you’s watch how you’s talk ta her,” said Race.</p><p>“Then you’s watch how your goil talks ta me.”</p><p>Hannah rolled her shoulders back. “Neither you nor Racetrack control how I speak.”</p><p>Spot didn’t say anything for a moment. He paced back and forth on the dock, only to stop mid-stride and chuckle under his breath.</p><p>“You’s got a mind of your own, don’t ya, Sweetheart?”</p><p>“Suppose I do.”</p><p>“Dat’s good,” Spot stopped and looked at her. “Remind me nevah ta let you an’ Diamond get close. Between the pair of ya, you’d take over half o’ New York.”</p><p>Race grasped Hannah’s hand and straightened himself to his full hight. “Look, Spot, are you’s gonna help us or not?”</p><p>“Jus’ so happens dat I’s got some of da boys from ‘hattan and Queens comin’ by tonight. You’s should stay, considering you’s the reason why we’s meetin’ an all,” said Spot.</p><p>“So dat’s a yes.”</p><p>“As good a’ one as you’s gonna get, Higgins,” Spot walked towards the lodging house and gestured for them to follow him. Race looked over his shoulder. “They’s ain’t here,” Spot said cooly. “You’s weren’t followed. I’s got my boidies keepin’ track o’ t’ings. I’ll know da foist sign o’ trouble.”</p><p>“Okay,” Race dragged his feet slightly.</p><p>“Blade came by a couple o’ times. I’s told ‘em you was still gone.”</p><p>“T’anks.”</p><p>“He was real antsy,” Spot opened the door and let Hannah in first. “Kept askin’ where you was and when you’s comin’ back.”</p><p>“He’s got ta answer ta people,” said Race.</p><p>“Yeah, well, so do you’s.”</p><p>“He’s done doing those jobs,” Hannah stroked the back of Race’s hand with her thumb. “Racetrack doesn’t have to answer to anyone anymore.”</p><p>Spot shook his head as they walked up the stairs to the bunk rooms. “Wish it were dat simple, Sweetheart.”</p><p>“We’ll figure it out,” Hannah said firmly. “Whatever money is owed or whatever debt needs to be paid, I’ll find work in another factory or—“</p><p>“No!” Race grasped both of her hands and spun her to face him. “You’s ain’t goin’ back ta woik in one o’ those places.”</p><p>“But Race—“</p><p>A short whistle from just below the window stopped Hannah from continuing her argument.</p><p>“Dat’ll be ‘hattan,” Spot adjusted his hat and cane. “An’ your cue ta go, Sweetheart.”</p><p>“What?” Hannah looked at Spot and then at Race. “No!”</p><p>“Dis meetin’ ain’t no place for ya,” said Spot.</p><p>“But I want to help!”</p><p>“An’ I’s don’t want ya anymore involved den you’s already are,” Race said gently. He pulled her aside for a moment. “Look, you’s know I’s want ya by my side,” he brushed a piece of hair behind her ear. “You’s know I wanna be with ya. I jus’ can’t see ya getting hoit no more an’ dis…” he took in a shuddering breath. “I’s don’t want ya involved in dis. I’s want ya hidden an’ safe an’ away from all dis.”</p><p>“But, Racetrack, I can’t just stand by and watch you get hurt.”</p><p>“Look, Sweetheart,” Race placed a kiss to her forehead. He didn’t care if Spot was watching. “I’s made dis mess, let me fix it.”</p><p>“You’s need ta get goin’,” Spot strode over to the pair. “Diamond’s in da next room. Have a drink with her.”</p><p>Hannah sighed, realizing defeat and left the room. She walked a ways down the corridor until she was partially hidden in the shadows and waited. She saw Jack and a few of the other Manhattan newsies enter the bunk room, but none of the other boys came. She assumed it would only be Manhattan and Brooklyn, so she made her way back to the now closed door.</p><p>She knew it was wrong, but she couldn’t help it. She pressed her ear to the door and listened.</p><p>“So what’s goin’ on between you an’ dat goil, Higgins?” Spot took a long drag on his cigarette.</p><p>“Who, Sweetheart?”</p><p>“Yeah, who do you’s think I’s talkin’ ‘bout?” Spot chuckled. “She’s ya goil, right?”</p><p>Race’s eyes darted from one newsie to the other, somehow hoping one of them would help him. His eyes landed on Cowboy, who just shrugged. “It ain’t like dat, Spot,” Race said finally.</p><p>Hannah’s ear pressed up against the wood of the door. She knew it was wrong. Eavesdropping was a terrible thing; practically a sin, but she couldn’t help herself.</p><p>“So you’s sayin’ you’s ain’t goin’ steady or nothin’?” Spot’s voice came strong and hard.</p><p>“We’s…” Racetrack paused and gathered his thoughts. “I’s ain’t talked to her ‘bout us yet.”</p><p>“So there is somethin’ between you’s.”</p><p>“Yeah,” Hannah’s heart skipped a beat at Racetrack’s answer. “But I’s don’t wanna put no pressure on her. We’s gone out togetha a bunch’a times, an’ I’s walkin’ out with her, but dat’s all.”</p><p>Spot played with the key around his neck. “You’s kissed her?”</p><p>“Jesus Christ, Conlon!” Jack erupted. “I’s don’t see how dat’s important.”</p><p>“An’ the fact that you’s don’t speaks volumes.”</p><p>“Excuse me?”</p><p>“Dis fella,” Spot pointed his cain at Race. “He gets cozy with his lady friend. Those fella’s from da Bronx see him. They see Sweetheart. Ya know what else they see?” Spot paused and Jack groaned. “A fuckin’ liability, dat’s what.”</p><p>“Awe jeez, Spot,” Mush fell back into a cot. “So Race has a goil an’ likes to go out with her. Dat don’t mean he’s gonna get soaked.”</p><p>“Soaked?” Spot put his cane back down with a thud. “Dat’s the least of his worries. Dat goil out there is a walkin’ target. If you’s kissin’ her and walkin’ her ‘round town, you’s gotta know what kinda danger she’s in.”</p><p>“I’s keepin’ an eye out,” Race mumbled, uncharacteristically nervous.</p><p>“Oh yeah, sure you’s are,” said Spot. “I’s bet ya dere are a good three fellas out dere lookin’ for more information on her right now.”</p><p>“I’s got is under control, Spot,” Race clenched his jaw.</p><p>“Oh yeah?” Spot’s voice became dangerously low. “So I suppose you’s know all ‘bout dat next job of yours, right? Dat one for Johnny Ellison? Tell me, does your Sweetheart know ‘bout you’s breakin’ inta houses? Because let me tell you’s somethin’, Higgins. She may not know about them, but they sure as hell know about her.”</p><p>Racetrack tried to stabilize his breathing. “She don’t know nothin’ an’ ain’t nothin’ gonna happen. If he wants me ta do another job, den I’s do the job an’ dat’s it. Nothin’ happens.”</p><p>Kid Blink nodded at this. “I’s with ya, Race. You’s da best at the dice an’ poker. These’s fellas can’t be dat different.”</p><p>“You’s talkin’ like they’s kids in a fuckin’ schoolhouse playin’ marbles,” Spot’s eyes narrowed.</p><p>“Let him be, Spot,” Jack tried to interject.</p><p>“No!” Spot cried. “I’s had ‘bout enough of this bullshit! You’s got no <em>idea</em> what you’s got yourself into, Higgins. I’s got da boys from Bronx knockin’ at my door askin’ ‘bout news from ‘Hatten ‘cause they’s got Johnny Ellison breathin’ down their necks. Meanwhile, all o’ you’s tellin’ him it’s gonna be fine an’ dat he’s clever enough to outsmart them! Dis is <em>five points</em>, Racetrack! Dis ain’t a poker game with my boys on a Saturday night. This is a gang of professional criminals who wouldn’t hesitate to hire someone to fire a bullet through your head. That sweetheart of yours is about the best thing that happened to them. The second you’s chicken out or call it quits, that sweetheart of yours becomes theirs. You’s think dis is a walk in da park? You’s think you’s can just go up to Johnny an’ tell him you’re through with doin’ jobs for him? You do that an’ you and your goil are as good as dead.”</p><p>Spot’s words hung in mid air. The Manhattan newsies held their breath as Jack ran a hand over his face. He took one look at Racetrack’s blank and white expression and turned to Spot.</p><p>“You’s eva seen dis…Johnny Ellison fella?”</p><p>Spot leaned against the wall and finished his cigarette. “Not-a-once.”</p><p>“Den how do you’s know he’s dangerous?”</p><p>“Cause, Jacky-boy. You’s dangerous when you’s get otha folks ta do your dirty woik. I’s heard tell dat nobody jus’ goes ta see Ellison. Dey need to arrange a meetin’. Dat should tell ya somethin’.”</p><p>“Right,” Jack muttered. “So whadda we’s do?”</p><p>Spot sighed. “Not much you’s can do. Keep da goil here. Don’t let her leave da lodging house an’ make sure someone’s always in da place with her.”</p><p>“I’ll stay,” Race stood up shakily.</p><p>“Like hell,” said Spot. “You’s got a job ta do an’ if you’s don’t do it, they’ll come lookin’ for ya. An’ believe me, they know’s where you’s are.”</p><p>“So I do the job. Then that’s it, I’s outta it.”</p><p>Spot shook his head. “What are you’s plannin’ on doin’ when Mr. Johnny Ellison asks you ta do another job?”</p><p>“There is no otha job.”</p><p>“There’s always anotha job,” said Spot. “Nobody jus’ does a few jobs for da Five Points gang and leaves without any issue.”</p><p>“Den I’s arrange a meetin’.”</p><p>“What?” Mush jumped off his cot. “Not a chance in hell you’s doin’ dat!”</p><p>“Shut it, Meyers,” Spot raised a hand lazily. He didn’t have time for Manhattan and their hopeful loyalty.</p><p>“They’ll kill ‘em!”</p><p>“They’s ain’t gonna kill ‘em if he walks in the lions den with a plan an’ a means ta make amends. They <em>are</em> gonna try an’ kill ‘em if he keeps hidin’.”</p><p>Race gulped and tried to keep his nausea at bay. “I’s don’t care if I’s get hurt,” he looked over at Mush and then stood up to face Spot. “S’long as Sweetheart don’t get hurt an’ don’t get involved. I’s do whatever they’s ask o’ me as long as it keeps her safe.”</p><p>“For fuck’s sake,” Spot threw his head back and rolled his eyes.</p><p>Jack’s eyes narrowed. “Oh, like you’s would want a bunch of gangsters after Diamond? Don’t make like Race is a fool for carin’ for somebody. You’s ain’t no different.”</p><p>Spot’s head whipped in Jack’s direction, his eyes blazing. Jack knew he’d over-stepped his bounds, but damn it all to hell if he wasn’t defensive in regards to his boys. He got along with Spot; considered him a friend, even, but he wouldn’t let anybody talk down to his boys.</p><p>“Fuck right off, Kelly. I’s don’t have ta let you boys stay here, ya know. I’s doin’ dis outta the kindness of my heart. Cause I’s loyal ta you’s. My goil and who I’s share a bed with ain’t got nothin’ ta do with dis.”</p><p>“I’s get dat,” Jack stood his ground. “Jus’ don’t go tellin’ Race he’s a fool for havin’ someone.”</p><p>“Well, I’s sorry if I’s offended,” Spot rolled his eyes again, his words dripping with sarcasm.</p><p>The boys kept arguing— more like bickering hens, really, Hannah thought. She kept listening, so absorbed in the boys’ conversation, that she didn’t notice a less-than-famililar newsie approach her in the hall.</p><p>“Sweetheart, I’s guessin’,” the newsie extended his hand.</p><p>Hannah took a step back, but shook his hand. “Yes.”</p><p>“Hear anythin’ interestin’?”</p><p>“I was just…”</p><p>“Don’t matter,” the newsie chuckled. “I’s here ta see you’s anyway.”</p><p>“Me?”</p><p>“Yeah. What? Spot ain’t the only fella ‘round here with boidies chirpin’,” he adjusted his hat. “I’s Hook.”</p><p>“You’re from Queens.”</p><p>“Right foist time, Sweetheart.”</p><p>“Shouldn’t you be in the meeting?”</p><p>“I’s go in when I’s good an’ ready. Besides, like I said, I’s here ta see you.” Hannah watched him walk past her down the hall. “Well?” He whispered over his shoulder. “You’s comin’?”</p><p>Hannah nodded quickly and rushed after him. “What do you want?”</p><p>“Don’t mean ya no harm,” Hook said as he ushered her into a storage room. He closed the door behind them and waited for a beat. “I’s not in da habit o’ helpin’ folks when there ain’t nothin’ in it for me. I’s don’t see da point in it.”</p><p>“I know,” Hannah kept her voice even and strong. “Race told me all about you.”</p><p>That made Hook laugh. “Got quite a rep, huh?”</p><p>“I’m sure you’ve done your fair share of embellishing.”</p><p>“You’s a ‘hattan goil aren’t ya? You’s would know all about embellishin’ on da truth.”</p><p>“I’m my own person.”</p><p>“I’s don’t doubt that,” Hook leaned against the wall. “Look, I’s here ta help you’s.”</p><p>“Why me?”</p><p>“Because,” he sighed. “As much as you’s t’ink you’s got dis whole t’ing figured, you’s don’t got a clue. None of your boys do. An’ dat includes Conlon. He t’inks he’s so tough and untouchable, he ain’t got a clue ‘bout stuff like dis.”</p><p>Hannah tried not to flinch at his words. “I can handle myself.”</p><p>“Sure you’s can. So if a fella comes at ya, what you’s gonna do? Bash ‘em with a rollin’ pin?”</p><p>“Don’t you <em>dare—“ </em>Hannah came at him. Her hand was about to make contact with his face, but his reflexes were better. He gripped her wrist, though he didn’t hurt her. He simply dropped her hand and chuckled.</p><p>“Go ahead, give me your best shot.”</p><p>“I will not let you belittle me and speak to me as if I am some defenceless princess.”</p><p>Hook raised an eyebrow. “Well, aren’t you’s jus’ da little suffragette?”</p><p>“Don’t mock me.”</p><p>“I ain’t.”</p><p>“Just tell me what you want.”</p><p>“I’s don’t want anythin’,” Hook said lazily. “I’s jus’ don’t wanna see your body in a ditch so,” he reached into his trouser pocket and took out a small pistol. “It ain’t yours ta keep, but you’s should have dis on ya for da next little while.”</p><p>“A gun,” Hannah took a step back without realizing it.</p><p>“Ya know how ta use one?”</p><p>“I can shoot a Kentucky longrifle,” Hannah said with some conviction.</p><p>Hook acknowledged this was a slow nod. “Dis ain’t dat different. S’my spare, so don’t go losin’ it on me.”</p><p>“Why are you giving it to me?”</p><p>“So you’s can defend yourself.”</p><p>“What about Racetrack? I don’t think he’d like the idea of me holding a gun.”</p><p>“Look,” Hook sighed. “Your Manhattan boys like to play nice. These five points fellas? They’re not interested in playin’ nice. They’s gonna use every last dirty trick in da book. You’s knowin’ how ta use dis will keep ya safe. Besides,” he held the pistol out to Hannah. “I’s don’t think Race would like da idea of you’s gettin’ hoit, now would he?”</p><p>Hannah snatched the pistol from Hook and examined it. “You want me to lie to him about having this.”</p><p>“S’for da best, ain’t it? Ain’t Race doin’ da same t’ing ta you’s? Not tellin’ ya all kinds a’ stuff in da name of keepin’ ya safe an’ in the dark?”</p><p>“I suppose so,” said Hannah.</p><p>“So it’s for his own good. Ya know,” Hook looked back at Hannah and smiled genuinely. “I was wrong ‘bout you’s. Foist I’s thought you’s some kinda country goil dat doesn’t know from nothin’, but I’s wrong ‘bout dat. I’s could actually learn ta like ya, kid. You’s tough, got a mind of your own, an’ you’s ain’t afraid ta stick up for yourself. Never mind gettin’ women ta vote, with your grit, you’s could run for parliament.”</p><p>“Oh, please,” Hannah waved him off, but another figure in the hall stopped her from continuing.</p><p>“Blade,” Hook hooked a thumb into his belt loop and stood at his full hight, affectively blocking most of Hannah from view. “You’s a bit…late.”</p><p>“Surprise you’s even here,” Blade extended his hand. Hook did not shake it.</p><p>“What can I’s say, I’s enjoy a good show.”</p><p>Blade’s eyes narrowed as he looked around Hook. “Hey there, doll-face. Nice ta see you’s in one piece.”</p><p>“Keep it up an’ you’s won’t be,” Hook’s voice was dangerously low. Blade made to open the door to the bunk room, but Hannah stepped aside to stop him.</p><p>“How much,” she whispered urgently.</p><p>“What?”</p><p>“How much does Racetrack owe?”</p><p>“Dat’s none o’ your concern.”</p><p>“Yes it is,” Hannah pressed on. “What if I were to be the one to pay the debt owed?”</p><p>“If they’s interested in money, it’ll be way more den you’s able ta pay,” Blade dropped his hand from the door knob and faced her.</p><p>“What if we were to come to some sort of an arrangement? I could work for them? I’d do whatever it takes.”</p><p>“You’s sure are determined, aren’t ya?”</p><p>“Tell him,” Hannah looked Blade directly in the eyes. “Tell whoever it is you answer to that he’s dealing with me now. I’ll see him myself. Just get Racetrack out of this.”</p><p>“Sweetheart, you’s don’t know what you’s doin’,” Hook tried to reason with her.</p><p>“Yes I do,” said Hannah. “I know Racetrack did these jobs for me, so he could take me home. He paid for a funeral, train tickets, and took me in when nobody else would. This is the least I can do to repay him.”</p><p>“I’s can get ya a meetin’,” said Blade. “Mr. Ellison likes da ladies, so I’m sure he’ll be agreeable ta some kinda arrangement.”</p><p>“Good.”</p><p>“I’s seein’ him tonight after dis meetin’. You should be able ta see him by tomorrow afternoon.”</p><p>“And you’ll tell Racetrack it’s dealt with.”</p><p>“Yeah, I’s tell ‘em he’s been let loose,” Blade watched Hannah for any flicker of doubt, but she seemed confident and determined.</p><p>She noticed his searching gaze and stood her ground. “Contrary to popular belief, I am neither an innocent farm girl, nor am I a naive country child. I know what I’m doing and I’m not going back on my word.”</p><p> </p><p> </p>
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